An Heiress' Mantle
by The Duelist's Heiress
Summary: Very OC Heavy. "I've juggled Huntress and Heiress, Arlomhe and Mheralo, Sharti and Ishtar, with what seem like ease… but what happens when I drop the ball… what happens if-no when I slip? There's no one to help me pick up the pieces. When I let everything else fall… who am I?"
1. Chapter One

DH AN: Here is the personally very long anticipated AU mix, or alternatively, I get to play with a handful of wonderful characters that are not mine. Big Thank you to **Ataahua** for the use of her aviary (you'll meet them next chapter) and for coming up with a lovely title for this thing. Enjoy **An Heiress' Mantle.**

 **AN 2: Timeline** : Snugly between **Healing Presence** and **The Poisoner And The Heiress**

 **AN 3:** Arlomhe Sharti 1st PoV

* * *

 **Chapter One**

I grab the filled file folder off his desk and return to the upper corridors. He is recovering well but I refuse to let him return to normal working habits until his coughing diminishes in frequency. I only gathered the papers that were time sensitive for his perusal.

I stop outside his bedroom door. It's hard not to glance at and skim papers by instinct. The first paper he will see bothers me. He's never mentioned bargaining with other groups. The Cobras- the name alone gives me a bad feeling.

I forget to knock then slide through the doorway. He's sitting up, probably far too eager to get back to some semblance of normalcy. I toss the folder onto the foot of the bed. "The time sensitive papers... As per your agreement with me."

He huffs but does nothing more to connote displeasure. Opening the folder, he reads the first paper. His muscles tense, and his eyes narrow with every passing second. "Benu, you vexing little bird." He stresses every syllable darkly as he throws the rest of the folder to the floor.

I freeze; I've heard that name before. A negotiating liaison apparently very good at getting the better end of deals... I'm one of the few wise enough to avoid the subject or refuse to address the obvious change in demeanor after my father returns from one of these rendezvous. It sometimes takes him an entire week to return to normal.

I re-gather the other papers back into the folder's confines. "Let me."

"No."

"I know you usually handle these, but you're in no condition." I step to place the folder on his right. "I highly doubt they'll wait or show sympathy." I pause perhaps already regretting my next addition. "You wouldn't."

"What I would or would not do isn't the task at hand. You're not going."

"You're doing something wrong! Every time you come back you look like this Benu has made you swallow several lemons!" I exhale. "I'm calm. I can follow instructions and I know I can negotiate."

"Such as?"

"Our current arrangement, better training for your new recruits, an actual written procedure list for your eyes only- can I stop now?"

"What makes you think you can negotiate with someone other than me?"

"I don't see anyone else volunteering."

"You're not going alone, not this time."

"I can take care of myse-"

He cuts me off as he grips and twists a handful of bed covers in his left hand and grabs my wrist tightly in his right. I wince as his fingernails dig into my skin and the ice in his eyes entraps my line of sight for the first time in weeks. "You are not going alone. Is that clear, Sharti?"

"Yes Sir." The sound squeaks through my teeth.

Three seconds pass before his fury relents and he uncoils his fingers from around my wrist. His eyes follow the line of his nail indentions on my skin, coupled with an expression that makes him look more miserable. His next words do nothing to deny a sense of guilt. "The healing salve is in the en suite. Second drawer." He falls victim to a chain of consecutive coughs. I wait until after he clears his throat and his breathing settles to retrieve the salve.

The en suite is situated in the farthest inner corner of the bedroom. I flick on the light switch in the room, trying to calm the feeling of intrusion for a second time. The area's rather personal and even with permission, it's strange to see another's hygiene tools and presumed habits therein. His things are all neatly arranged on the sink counter. Comb, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste on the right side, a container of lavender oil next to the pump of unscented hand soap, shaving cream and a razor on the left…and a bottle of perfume that I know he never uses behind the faucet. I feel a small frown tug at my lips before I reach for the second of the set of drawers attached underneath the sink counter. I find the familiar pearly capped jar tucked into the front of the drawer. I pull it out, set it on the sink's edge and then intend to shut the drawer.

But something else catches my attention.

A faux velvet box. I shrug off the sound of warning bells in my head as I reach for it. I can peek a look inside, he would never know. Then my hand stops, a breath away from touching the soft outer lining of the box. Things like this rarely turn out in my favor and I'm on proverbial thin ice as it is… My chance to prove myself is on the line. After the disasterous cave in… I can't risk it. I resolutely push the drawer shut.

"Excellent choice, Dear One." I startle as I see him leaning on the doorway, courtesy of the mirror.

I swallow my nerves. "How long have you been there?"

He steps in and scoots the jar to the right and me to the left. I'm thankful that I have a split second to remind myself to step up on the shower ledge to avoid a repeat meeting with the shower floor. "Long enough to see you for once conquer your habit of snooping." He permits a small smile. He washes his hands with the soap, shakes off most of the excess water and tips a dab of the lavender oil into his palm, massaging it into the skin, leaving a bit of the liquid and finally wipes his hands on the towel.

He takes the jar from the sink and steps out. "Wash your hands and then come have a seat, Mheralo."

I silently repeat his process and after my hands are washed, I open the first drawer to find a cream colored washcloth, run cold water over it and wipe my face. Without thinking, I take the dark purple hand towel and dry my face, inhaling the faint scent of the lavender oil and the even fainter scent of laundry soap that blend perfectly together and pull me into a different room, holding a gray long sleeve shirt rather than a hand towel. I try to shake it off.

"Sharti?" My father's voice floats somewhat muddled to my ears.

"It's Khouri!" I coil my fists, fighting back tears, shaking with utter disgust at my weakness. All it takes is a scent? "I thought I was over this… I thought I was over this!" I shut my eyes as a sob fights confinement.

A hand grabs my shoulder and another takes the hand towel from between the sink counter and my fingers and tosses it aside. "Inhale through your mouth and exhale through your nose." I hyperventilate, earning a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. "Slow and deep, Ms. Khouri." His own breaths are slow, deep, gently pulsing with a small lingering mucous-lined sound appearing at their edges.

He leads me to a chair. "Keep breathing like that until you can come back to me. Take all the time you need." I hear him return to the sink, the sound of running water and then its absence and then his careful footsteps as he moves to take a seat across from me. All the while, I'm still somewhat in the thralls of that other place. My eyes are still shut as I don't want to make it worse. The only thing pulling me away from that different room is the careful cadence of his breathing and the earthy cinnamon scent of the healing salve as it banishes the lavender detergent blend from my nostrils. My eyelids feel heavy after I open them.

"Better?" My father's gaze is on his hands, which are warming the salve.

I nod shakily. "I…I'm sorry you had to see that." I whisper, shame settling over me.

"You saw worse two weeks ago." His voice is equally soft.

He opens his hands, which reveal the salve closer to a liquid state rather that its usual gel. "May I see your arm, Dear One?" I offer it for his inspection. He carefully rubs the salve into my skin with gentle fingers. "I thought it was agreed that Khouri was my surname should we both need go under alias."

"Can we drop this for another time?"

He arches a brow, clearly eager to keep pressing. I don't miss the glance to his left before he sighs loosely and closes his eyes. "When this is brought up again at a time of my choosing, you will tell me everything. I will ensure it happens at a time without an event prompting the conversation." He inhales and his gaze catches mine as he releases my arm, hands sliding down to leave with a gentle squeeze on my hand. "Are we agreed?"

I'm silent for a moment. "Yes…we are agreed."

He rises from the chair and proceeds over to the bookcase. He pulls a one inch binder from a lower shelf and rises. My file. I pale; the last use of it wasn't exactly pleasant. "There are no essays here this time." It both assuages and gives a more than subtle hint. He retains his seat on the bed and scans something over. "I suppose I can trust you to go negotiate…mostly on the decent job you did handling an Audience." He closes the binder, sets it on the bed and returns to sit across from me.

"You're positive there's no chance of letting me go alone?"

"Absolutely none. If I give you that chance... What would I receive in return, aside from an opportunity to entertain worry?"

"I want Gabriel Roi."

"He's not even been here for a month."

"The guy knocked out all the sentries you had when he got here. And those suckers were out for hours." I smile. "I'd say he's the bodyguard type. Plus, he'd get field experience and you need more who have that."

"I need to stop making you file and do reports if you're only using the information against me like this." He coughs again.

I straighten myself in the chair. He still keeps two chairs there, chairs that have seen far less nefarious conversations. "What am I negotiating for?"

"You will be offering blueprints of a museum in Luxor." I steel myself as a smirk spreads across his face. "You will accept nothing less than an offering of the vexing little bird's services at a time of my choosing."

"Where can I retrieve the blueprints?"

"My office; where else?" He scribbles on a piece of scrap paper. "You are to retrieve them in the morning from the safe using this combination. And shred the paper afterwards." I take the paper from him and stuff it in my pants pocket. "Nothing else leaves that safe. Do I make myself clear, Dear One?"

I nod, pulling his office keys from his nightstand drawer, and exit. I need to find my negotiation partner and enlist Harkin as a driver. Seems like such a trifle thing to negotiate... A service that is no doubt high quality in exchange for a set of blueprints that are no doubt heavily annotated.

Then again, there are pieces that I don't have. Why this phoenix is so valuable and so good at their job that their employer sends her to negotiate with a man who sees such value in what is done, that if certain circumstances were different he'd nab this Benu rather dishonorably in a heartbeat.

I find Bryn Harkin in the communications room. He pulls off the massive headset after a glance at the mirror placed so that he's aware of who enters and exits.

"May I speak with you in private, Harkin?"

"Of course, Ms. Sharti." I sour at the unneeded respect. He knows I don't care for him using it. It always puts me at a bit of unease… that the framework that was placed years ago was for nothing and that the ties hidden for understandable reasons is common knowledge; it's something that doesn't sit well with me. I know he has an apology waiting behind closed doors as always but it never makes it any less irritating. He calls for Sahin, the second highest ranked in the unit, to take the main headset before he follows me out.

We proceed to the kitchen to grab a tray, the black and white pitchers of coffee and hot water, the box of tea bags, the sugar and creamer, and two mugs. We enter one of the seldom used interrogation rooms. I lock the door.

He pours and makes my tea first, placing it in front of me with the same care he's always shown me in the almost seven years I've known him.

"You've missed our standing date for two weeks..." He utters two dry laughs, after which his brow creases in concern. "Are you all right?"

I nod. I'd kept my excursions to the lower corridors to the bare minimum in the past two weeks. Precaution. "Family matters."

"You never talk about your family." I tense and he clears his throat. "My apologies. How is your shoulder? Is it feeling better?" He pours coffee into his own mug.

"I strained it while I was away but aside from that, it is feeling better." I smile and take that first sip of my tea. "Thank you for asking." I hesitate. "Is your sister any better?"

"Her calls have stopped coming." His hand shakes, sloshing the coffee in his mug, his expression pensive.

"Have you thought about-"

"Asking for time off is out of the question. You know that." He frowns. "Especially with our employer on an indefinite business trip."

Inwardly, I feel relief that even he bought that excuse. "Brynny, there's a time to stick to protocol and there's a time to take the plunge and ask!"

"I hate when you call me that."

"And I hate when you use that stupid formality, so now we're even." I stick my tongue out.

He "humph"s at me as he crosses his arms and then blows an errant bang out of his face. I laugh and he cracks a smile.

"When he gets back, ask! Not asking is getting a 'no' without trying. He might say yes because anxiety affects job performance..." I thread my fingers together and plant my elbows on the table. "If you keep running your hands through your hair like that, you'll have bald patches. It's not a good look for you."

"Oh what do you know?" He laughs.

I smile. "I know my mentor."

"There's something you need?" Bryn places a fist under his chin and smirks. "You never ever drag me away from my station unless it's urgent."

"I'm negotiating tomorrow. I want you to drive myself and my negotiation partner to the location."

"Why me?"

"You won't reveal the rather intricate details to just anyone. And despite what you think,… you were invaluable on my last excursion."

"But Ms.-"

"You got me out. That's something you don't need to apologize for."

"I suppose that's reason enough."

"Thank you, Bryn." He smiles.

"You know… I was scared I wouldn't be able to get you out…"

"You probably weren't the only one…" I exhale and rise from my seat. "But the past is the past and the now is now."

"Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Be ready at dawn. I'll handle everything else."

Harkin nods and returns to the communications room. I linger for a moment, bits and snatches of that… hallucination running through my head.

 _He takes a flashlight from the backseat and flicks it on. "Darkness is merely the absence of light. And yet we are content to stubbornly stumble through the unknown even if we have something that will reveal obstacles so that we can avoid them." I watch as he places the flashlight in my hands but keeps his hold on it. "Fear is the same thing. It is an obstacle that can be seen that some would rather struggle with than conquer." He shuts off the flashlight and tosses it into the backseat. "Choose to conquer and control and you will succeed."_

"It's hard to do that when you have no idea what success means to you or what fear must be conquered." My words bounce around the room in answer to someone only I remember. I wait until the room is silent again before I exit.

I quickly find Gabriel Roi and exhale through my teeth as he panics. How many times will I have to apologize for scaring him that one time? Can't really blame him though… sometimes I scare myself when I look into a mirror in bad lighting. I always wear soft soled shoes for that reason. _His_ steps have a weird way of filling anyone with absolute dread. Myself included.

"Mr. Roi." I sit on a chair at the opposite end of a table where he has every single piece of paper from the training sessions and notes that put _mine_ to shame spread across its surface. There's almost not a bare spot.

"Ms. Sharti- I- just gimme a minute to get all these off the table." I nod, but after two minutes of his debating what goes where, I decide it's in my best interest to help him a little.

"Your notes are quite good." I scan and put them in three piles: One for procedures, another for structure and specifications, and a third for miscellaneous items. "Must take you a while."

"There's just so much!" I take the three stacks and place them on his right and perch on the nearest seat.

"Do you trust me?" My voice is quiet. This could end badly. So many of them see what's on my shoulders before they ever see me; far too frightened that I whisper into The R.H.'s ear. After a moment, Roi nods his head up and down. "It gets easier. I swear it does." I again look at the stacks of paper. "And the notes really do help. Let me help you take them back to your quarters and I'll tell you why I came here along the way."

We're halfway there before I spring my request on him. He puts a hand on his chin. "So you need me to back you up with this 'Benu?'"

"Yes, that's the concept anyway… I just really hope I don't need to execute that part."

"I'll do it!"

I halt. No questions? No hesitation? "Did…did I hear that correctly, Roi?"

"To be honest… you look like you could use something to go your way." Understatement of the last near seven years. "How did you get mixed up in this anyway?"

I halt and my breath hitches. Of course he'd ask just as we pass the atrium. Three weeks shy of seven years to the day. "It's complicated. Th-that's all I'll say on the matter, Mr. Roi."

He smiles a somewhat sad smile. "Can't be any worse than how I got here…"

"I've been meaning to thank you for the pleasure of seeing the absolute best recruitment ever."

"You saw it?"

"Heard it. Sound carries a little too well and I'm actually around this corner here. Only room on the right."

"Must be pretty lonely."

"I manage." I exhale, hating that he's right.

I have no one who understands. I've juggled _Huntress_ and _Heiress, Arlomhe_ and _Mheralo, Sharti_ and _Ishtar,_ with what seem like ease… but what happens when I drop the ball… what happens if-no _when_ I slip? There's no one to help me pick up the pieces. When I let everything else fall… who am I?

That silly girl who sticks her neck out for people far too often for her to stay sane? The one who _doesn't_ hold failures and mistakes over other's heads for her own gain? The giver of far too many second chances? Or something- someone else entirely?

"I think we just passed it." Gabriel Roi's voice snaps me out of my stupor and I follow his back step. He proceeds down the almost passed hallway and stops at the third room on the right.

I pass him the three bundles of papers after he unlocks the door. "Two things: Be ready at dawn and answer to 'Alexandre' from the moment we leave, until we return." He turns on his heel with a 'why?' at the ready but does not give it voice. "You didn't take this job for you." With that, I leave him standing at the door.

"Why did you?"

I halt and the honest truth comes out before I can reconsider. "One part to please and the other to prove." I pace softly through the halls, past the atrium and up to the room missing the eastern wall. I sit where it all began to wait for the day to begin.

* * *

 **DH:** Next Chapter, we get to the fun part that spawned this plot bunny. Please Review


	2. Chapter Two

**DH AN:** Here's Chapter Two. Allow me to introduce my dear friend **Ataahua's** aviary.

Benu belongs to Ataahua, I am definitely just borrowing her. Nassr however is a bit more complicated and for now, that's all I'll say

*Benu- Egyptian derived/ attributed as Phoenix

*Nassr- Minor misspelling, but attributed as 'eagle' in Arabic. Also could be minor misspelling of the Arabic name Nassir – "Helper"

Take from that what you will. Enjoy **Chapter Two.** Pretty sure this one's my favorite,

 **AN 2:** Arlomhe 1st POV, switching to 3rd halfway through

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

I pace into the cavern with Gabriel Roi at my heels. I pull my cloak tighter around me. The only sound being our footsteps and breathing terrifies me. I have the blueprints, someone who can handle themselves in an altercation and a car ready at the push of a button.

I'm second guessing. I inwardly frown and question my tendency for being early. All we have to do now is wait. I'd rather haggle with The R.H. on a bad day than wait for this.

"You shrank." A voice purrs. I steel myself as it reverberates through the cavern. I can't see her. "And you brought a lackey with you this time. Not wanting me to disarm you of your fancy stick again?"

I look around trying to locate Benu and inwardly panic as I can't find her. I hear the distinct click of a gun. "Don't shoot." The words come with the almost imperceptible undertones of panic as I feel the gun pointed at me even though I can't see it.

A flashlight illuminates the cavern slicing through the darkness. "Well well, The R.H. sent two lackeys in his place. What a shame."

"I'm no mere lackey." I step forward. "Now I came to negotiate on his behalf, not play games. Is that clear, Ms. Benu?"

She steps out into the flashlight beam. "Your approach is far more effective." She laughs. "I see why you're here in place of the dear R.H. For starters you aren't so easily irked." Benu slinks along the wall and I realize why I couldn't see her; she is in form-hugging black clothing with a cloth covering her face, save for her hazel eyes. She steps towards me. I hear another set of steps on my left.

"Alexandre." I warn, barring him from proceeding forward with my left arm. He obliges but his muscles are too tense to be complacent.

"You should listen to your partner." A new, male voice speaks. "One step more and I won't have any qualms about giving you a bullet." He lands lightly behind Benu and I shield my eyes from the direct beam of the flashlight. It changes hands and he steps toward me. I start to shake as he puts his pistol in its holster. "Why did he send a terrified little girl?"

I swallow hard as he tilts my chin to look him in his green eyes. He has his left hand resting against the back of my hood as to keep my identity more concealed. "Who are you?" I ask, forcing futile courage into my words.

"I am called Nassr." His fingers slide from my chin. "Who is the one who calls on Ms. Benu?"

"Arlomhe Sharti." He steps away and returns to Benu's side with a respectful nod. "Now then, shall we begin our negotiations Ms. Benu?"

She closes the gap to an arms' length while her partner stays behind and observes. I jerk my head back and Alexandre steps back though he still looks unhappy about it. Benu places the flashlight on a ledge and its illumination spreads. "I trust that you brought the blueprints?" I nod and feel the assuring weight of the envelope in my right hand.

"I assure you they are accurate and authentic." I take two generous steps back

"Even so Ms. Sharti, I would like to examine them." I slide them across the floor, none too eager to enter her striking range, or give her trigger happy partner a reason to use a bullet. I watch as she peruses the pages, occasionally catching notations in The R.H.'s distinct script. She reaches the last page and tucks them back into the envelope, placing it on the floor. "How do I know that your employer has no intention of anonymously informing the authorities so that they may increase the museum's security?"

"That question brings us to your part of the bargin, Ms. Benu." I take a step forward and keep a wary eye on her partner, whose attention flicks between me and his partner. "Your ability, bearing and skill are renowned among other organizations, Ms. Benu."

"You flatter me, Ms. Sharti. It sounds like your employer fed you those lines, just how close to him are you?"

I swallow my anger. I'm not about to let her control me... Or endanger the fragile line of my position. Nassr's gaze is on me, this time somewhat curious. "That is not the matter at hand Ms. Benu. If you would, don't bring it up again."

"As you wish." I hear the smirk in her voice. "Now then... What is it your employer seeks from The Cobras for his rather generous contribution?"

"It is not what he seeks from The Cobras..." I smirk as her posture shifts to surprise. "Rather Ms. Benu, it is what The R.H. seeks from you."

"Which is?" She rests her chin in her hand in amusement.

"Your services Ms. Benu." The tension in the air is palatable and I swear I see Nassr subtly shaking his head no in hopes that his partner would see.

She doesn't, but after a minute's silence, she speaks. "When?"

"At my employer's choosing."

"So long as it doesn't adversely affect The Cobras and not alone." She glances to Nassr and I nod.

I remove a contract and pen from my cloak's inner pocket. "As I am acting in proxy, I'll need your signatures." My steps are careful and slow as I hand over the contract. Benu merely takes it from me, scribbles what looks like "Benu" framed within a set of feathery strokes that look like wings. I can't stop a small smile. She's busy handing her partner the paper. Unlike her, he reads it rather than a simple scan, to ensure everything is in order. I can see why they make good partners.

Nassr attentively scans the document and I wait with controlled breath. He signs it after a moment and a second glance. He returns it to Benu who then passes it to me. I tuck the paper safely in my inner pocket.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you Ms. Benu." I give thought to extending my hand for a handshake but I'd rather not risk having my shoulder dislocated. She is silent and slinks back into the shadows on soundless feet. Her partner is visible for a second longer before he too vanishes on more audible steps.

My mind is playing tricks on me. The footsteps sound so familiar. It can't be... He's been gone for years.

"Ms. Sharti?" I spin on my heel to see Alexandre. "Perhaps it would be best if you rest on the trip back?"

"I'm fine." I snap, fists clenched loosely. Yet my fast heartbeat and quick breathing counter the assertion. My chin touches my collarbone as I catch sight of my partner shaking. "Perhaps I should...my apologies for snapping." I step past him toward the black van that will return us to the complex.

"You'll have to tell him." Nassr tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

"I don't. The deal doesn't concern him." Benu spits back. "It only concerns us."

Nassr sighs. "He will want a debriefing. Hiding information isn't quite in your best interest."

"Oh would you quit worrying? That's easier than negotiating with The R.H."

"I wonder what made him send a duo this time?" Nassr's face is set, the firm line of his jaw present.

"It worked well for him." Benu states. "Though the fact that until now he's personally seen to his own deals... That's concerning."

"You don't think... She's some sort of successor do you?"

"Her?" Benu scoffs. "There's a complete lack of confidence." She threads her hands behind her head. "Plus who would be blinded enough to have that arrogant bastard's offspring?" She grits her teeth. "What woman in their right mind would leave a child in the care of a man of The R.H.'s position?"

"You assume a successor is always familial? Merely because of how your own mother left you?" He knows he will regret saying this.

Benu is silent, but her fingers dig into the sparse flesh of his hand and he winces. It relaxes after about half a minute, and Benu's facade falters.

"That was a bit insensitive...My apologies, Lady Benu." His gaze rips from hers and is suddenly on the steering wheel.

"You aren't in that deep of trouble." She laughs halfheartedly.

"I will be if Salim sees you sulking." He tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "My job is to ensure your safety as well as the success of our little rendezvous should the other party refuse to cooperate."

"I'm safe and in one piece and fortunately for them cooperation was no issue."

"Well if you don't get your act together... He'll start to suspect."

"Oh stop it... I'll be ok."

Nassr shuts off the engine. "We're here. Go and prepare for your debriefing. I'll see you at sundown." His fingers brush against hers and she smiles. He watches her nod and exit the car.

He exhales softly. He rubs the bridge of his nose. He takes a yellow notepad and pen from the glove box, carefully pens thirteen letters and draws lines that cross over each other. He pales slightly after the letters are rearranged. He rips the sheet from the pad and crumples it and finds a place in his coat's inner pocket. This doesn't sit well. He doesn't know whether to be angry or terrified.

* * *

 **DH:** Please Review


	3. Chapter Three

**DH AN:** Here's Chapter Three of **An Heiress' Mantle.** Geeze, I think everything about this is my favorite.

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Naasr steps out of the car, shaking. He exhales and paces across the courtyard. His pager goes off and his steps are slow until he reaches the portion of the mansion that holds The Cobras' headquarters. He inhales sharply. What would Salim want him for now?

He groans. Another solo mission. Which means another quick apology to Benu right before he leaves- this is the third one in a week. He braces his shoulders and proceeds.

He hates everything about these corridors. It's a miracle he knows where his employer's office and his own sleeping quarters are. The dimness of the halls is concerning and the way the torches splash shadows all over the walls force him to keep an eye out for _real_ snakes.

After an attempt to shrug off the discomfort, Nassr paces down the winding solitary hallway after a handful of near missteps; he'd entered the maze through a route he didn't use regularly.

He stops before the cherry wood door bearing intricate circular patterns etched into its surface.

He offers a nod to the sentry to the right of the door, who provides a stiff nod of acknowledgement back. Nassr enters the office and shuts the door. He steps out of the doorway and puts his hands behind his back with a wide stance that's not quite straight, as he doesn't wish to pass out.

He waits to be addressed. It's nerving. The large room doesn't help either. Anything that could be considered an office only takes up a third of the long side of the room. It is ideal for hosting briefings by regiment but solo briefings are terrifying… far too much space.

"Well you responded quickly for once." Nassr stiffens. "Usually it takes you longer."

Nassr stays silent as the chair turns to reveal steel gray eyes, underneath short clipped brown hair that is graying at the roots. The man threads his fingers together. And his eyes narrow.

Nassr swallows his nerves, kicking himself internally as he registers his colored contact lenses were actually in his pocket the whole morning. Green is frowned upon, he has no idea why. "You wanted to see me, Master Salim?"

Salim shows an unsettling smile. "I have another assignment for you."

"Yes?"

Nassr eyes Salim warily as he steps from behind the desk with a tan folder in hand. It's almost overstuffed. "The R.H. has stolen something I want."

"Just how do you know it was him?"

"His calling card...the man is very fond of purple and gold." Salim's smile stretches further as he removes a deep purple cloth the size of a handkerchief from the folder. He folds it over his hand and there is golden embroidery visible. "I wonder what 'F. R.' could possibly mean... Perhaps a lover... Certainly seems more feminine." He tucks it back into the folder. "I doubt he even knows he lost it."

"What is it you want from me?" Nassr has to keep himself from snapping.

"I want you to go and get that item for me."

"You realize that the Rare Hunters' headquarters are very well-hidden... How do you expect to find it?"

"The possible location has been narrowed down to a quadrant. Surely one with your skills should be able to locate it." Salim presses the folder into Nassr's hands.

"And if the rumors are true about The R.H.'s magic stick?"

"It's only rumor." Salim reclaims his seat. "You're dismissed."

"Yes Sir." Nassr turns on his heel and exits.

* * *

I detest night rounds. However, as current circumstances necessitate, I coordinated with Odion to alternate every other night. I'm on my last scan of the lower corridors, flashlight in hand.

I open the door to the garage area and pass the flashlight beam through the darkness. As I near the center of my sweep, I immediately shield my eyes as the light bounces back from the silver of headlights. It's odd. Those who have vehicle privileges know not to park in the center.

I decide quickly, turning the flashlight to face the door, shutting the door and cutting the light to give the illusion that I've gone inside. I can still barely make sight of the car. My muscles freeze as I hear those same familiar footsteps. He shouldn't be here.

"Mr. Nassr." The footsteps cease as I briefly fumble for the light switch to bathe the room in soft light. He hides behind the car. My steps are careful for two reasons: he's probably armed and I'm definitely not. I crouch a few feet away. "Mr. Nassr what business do you have here?" From one glance I can tell he's not in the same shape I saw him in earlier. His posture is slack and defensive and he's running his hands through his strikingly blond hair and the movement is wracked with nerves. What I can see of his face is exhausted, though his eyes are now blue- surely the result of colored contacts. "If you won't tell me why you're here, perhaps some food will loosen your tongue." I rise. "You have no idea how many circumstances are in your favor. If you leave this room, a camera will record it and I can't guarantee your safety." I hesitate, this is an extreme breach in protocol but Nassr isn't a threat I want to risk creating. "I'd rather not see what The R.H. actually does to trespassers."

Nassr doesn't respond. Turning on a heel, I head straight up to the kitchen. I grab a small bowl, ladle soup that Raji keeps perpetually warm into it, and drop a hunk of cold brown bread into the bowl as well. Wedging a spoon into my pocket, I make my journey back.

It goes well without a hitch and I inwardly breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing I need is someone like Micheas, brilliant but unfortunately victim to many a few slip ups that have damaged any credibility, to catch sight of Nassr. 'Highly sought' can't even _begin_ to cover how valuable a target the members who make up The Cobras negotiation squad are separately.

I step back into the garage. "For someone presumably skilled at break-ins, this is certainly risky." I place the bowl and spoon in front of him, stepping back a few feet and taking a seat on the ground. "Do you have any idea how valuable you are? How easy it would be for me to turn you over to my employer?" His eyes dilate in fear. "If you give me no reason to, we'll be fine." I feel the cold inch into my skin. Short sleeves aren't great for trapping heat.

He takes the bowl and spoon, sets it aside and removes his jacket. I flinch as I see his pistol again. He rises and steps toward me. I'm rooted in fear and simultaneously wanting to scoot back.

"Why would I harm you when you have been nothing but kind to an exhausted moron who found his target by pure luck?" His voice is simultaneously soft and sonorous as he gently puts his still warm coat across my shoulders and opens the passenger side of his car, placing the pistol in the glove box.

"What do you mean by luck?"

"Your employer keeps his headquarters very well. No one knows the exact location."

"So how did you find it, Mr. Nassr?" I now watch him warily.

He returns to his soup. "It was narrowed down to an incorrect quadrant." He devours the bread. "I just came to the plateau because it was the only landmark for miles. It was shelter."

I pale. "Why are you here?"

"I came to retrieve an item The R.H. stole from my employer. A ritual knife, gold and rich volcanic glass handle with veins outlined with the same glass in the silver of the blade." He drains the bowl. "Do you know of it, Ms. Sharti?"

"Know of it?" I breathe, trying my best not to shake in terror. "I retrieved it from its resting place."

He stands again, carefully steps towards me and stoops down in front of me. "Look in the inner pocket of the coat." The order is soft.

I pluck a crumpled piece of yellow note paper from the pocket, paling as my eyes sweep across two sets of thirteen letters. "How do you know this?... How do you know this?"

"What sort of brother would I be if I didn't recognize my own sister's name in multiple presentations?"

"What kind of brother runs off knowing full well that his sister will be interrogated the morning after?!" I stand and in rage, strike him swiftly on his cheek. "You left me!" I collapse. "You left me... And for what? A situation that is just as dangerous as the one you left! You stupid boy!"

"So The R.H. is..." I nod before he can finish his sentence. It's far easier if I just say yes than try to explain complexities. "You have his eyes."

"You hide that you have hers."

"You seem to have done well for yourself." He brushes aside the accusation.

"Just go, Nassr. " I fight my tears. "I don't know where the knife is now and even if I did... I can't give it to you."

"Still loyal to a fault, I see."

"Is that what you call it?"

"You think that there is a better explanation?"

"Do you know what having your brain sifted through feels like?" I shudder. "It's not pleasant."

"That stick isn't just a rumor..." Nassr pales drawing a familiar purple handkerchief from his pants pocket.

"Of course no-" His slightly trembling hand as well as the item therein grab my attention. "Wh-Where did you get that?"

"When a retrieval team went for the knife, they found this pinned under one of the boulders blocking the entrance."

"He didn't intentionally leave that behind. He would never..."

"I know, which is why I brought it back. It's mate is buried with... With Mother." Nassr's voice goes soft, with a familiar reverence. "Her favorite color, a hunter's green, with his initials in silver thread."

"Anniversary gift?"

"It was from one of their dates...before they were married, so Mother told me...once." He places the cloth into my hands. "Guess this means he still loves her..."

"You doubt that?" I search his face for any denial. "I can't convince you."

"You don't understand."

"I've never understood." I watch him massage his cheek... Where I struck him moments before. "I'm having trouble understanding why you...just let me do that."

He puffs air from his nose. "I'm just glad you didn't drop kick me."

I quickly wrap my arms around him and squeeze. "I missed you." He says nothing but his fingers gently tousle my hair as if nine years had never passed. "And… I like the new name… it fits." I see small attempts at a smile as I break the hug. _So reminiscent of his fa-_ my breath hitches before I can finish the thought.

"You should go." I rise. "I'm overdue for a briefing and I'd rather not look like I've been ripped apart by my emotions. That's his job…" My expression sours… of all the days to have something like this happen…

"Is it hard...dealing with him?" Nassr stands, and closing the gap between us with two long strides, he reads all the nonverbal cues… my shaking, the labored breathing, and just when did I start twisting my hair?

"Some days are better than others..." Everything but the hair-twisting ceases.

"Today?" He catches my wrist and pulls it down to my right side, putting a stop to the action.

"If you don't leave soon, it will be among one of the less favorable."

"Even if you were successful?"

"Humor me and switch our roles in your head for a moment."

"Like I'd be caught dead in a dress..." He laughs.

"Not what I meant." I rub the bridge of my nose. "It's capture the flag. And you're the flag, Nassr. Valuable and very much a game changer."

"How flattering."

"Here are my terms: you won't reveal this location and I let you go." I hesitate. "If you can't do that, at least promise me you will do whatever you can to keep the information from falling into the wrong hands. You always keep your promises..." I nudge him on the shoulder. "Remember? You promised you wouldn't forget me..."

"And I never did."

"You can confirm that we have the item he wants and that negotiations will be pending." I step back and watch him get in the car.

He rolls down the window. "Your intimidation could use some work, lacks the proper shall we say persuasion."

"You caught me on a bad day."

He shakes his head at me and reverses the car. I shield my eyes from the morning rising sun as the wall slides aside for his exit. It closes after with a dull thud. The only sign of him was a piece of yellow paper gripped tightly in my hand, the purple cloth held loosely in the other and his jacket that still clings to my shoulders.

* * *

 **DH:** Do I have a lot of explaining to do? Yes… Do I really want to do it in the author's notes… Not really.I will say that yes, Nassr has definitely grown on me, and aside from VERY rare circumstances his former name will not be used. It's fun getting to work him mostly from the ground up. And again, (and you'll hear me saying this so often it'll be tiresome) **Ataahua** not only gets credit for the idea, but also is letting me use Salim.

Please Review


	4. Chapter Four

**DH AN:** Okay so, this is not the plunny of doom that needs its second half (It's a heavy plunny and I desperately needed a small break from it but that is next on my list.)

 **AN 2:** As always, Benu belongs to **Ataahua.** She's just letting me borrow her.

Enjoy **Chapter Four** of **An Heiress' Mantle.**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

She returns to her allotted room, exhausted and struggling. Of all the days for things to return to normal...

All she feels are the throbbing aches from holding the same position for hours. The prospect of no sleep before she has to press on as if nothing has happened is daunting. It's nothing new.

This time feels harder. Nassr had never been gone past sunrise. Benu sighs, hoping that her partner did not succumb to exhaustion.

The first place she went was always his room. This time instead of finding him, all she'd found were the contents of a folder littered on the desk. A photograph of the ritual knife, the black veins of obsidian glass in stark contrast to the gray of the monochrome photo, a set of coordinates... That she knew were wrong... This excursion was meant to lead him to exhaustion out in the desert, fifty miles from the real quadrant's coordinates. At the very least, it would keep him out a while...

Did he run out of gas? She collapses on the bed, shaking. Was he in the right mind? Did he suffer from exposure? Benu rises and slams a fist against a wall. She trembles. He could have been captured! Despite all the research hours- most of them hers-, nothing, not one scrap of information, reveals something regarding the Rare Hunters even taking captives.

She squares her shoulders and steps out of the room. Stalking through the halls on quiet feet, she finds her way to the garage. Benu marches straight to the gas cans. She pulls one off the shelf and dashes to the nearest car. She grips the can so hard her hands go white.

She places the can next to a black sedan and moves to retrieve the keys from a case controlled by a keypad access. Her feet drag as she paces back to the car. She feels fatigue seep into every inch of her.

She leans against the car, wincing as the contact presses against her midsection. She closes her eyes for a moment. In seconds, her eyelids filter lights from headlights. There is the soft squeal of brakes.

The driver silences the engine. The door opens and closes. Each careful, heavy step makes Benu shake with relief and fury. "Don't you dare make me worry so much..." She buries her head in Nassr's chest. "I was about to go looking for you." She hears him sigh as he picks up the gas can and returns it to the shelf. She watches him rub his hands across his upper arms in a vain attempt for warmth.

"Where is your jacket?"

"Had to ditch it." Nassr avoids looking at Benu. "Shame. It was my favorite."

"Mine too." Benu steps back towards him. "I'm just glad you're back. Just tell me next time."

"Ok that was stupid and I'm sorry."

"Were you successful?"

"I got incorrect coordinates. What do you think?"

"You must have found something."

"I would think what I didn't find would relieve you."

"Tell me then, what didn't you find?"

Nassr laughs. "I didn't find my death in the desert."

"That's-" Benu winces as she steps wrong and pain shoots through her body and stills her. She grits her teeth. "That's good," The phrase is quiet and in a matter of seconds, Nassr is there to catch her before she crumples to the floor.

"You're in pain…and your shirt… " In the moment when Nassr finds a two inch gash in the side of her shirt, everything stops. His eyes widen and then narrow in two seconds as he catches sight of the bruising as well. "I'll kill him…" The phrase flies through Nassr's teeth as he trembles with disgust and rage. How could he have not connected the pieces earlier?

These 'excursions' started two weeks ago, coinciding rather nicely with the fact that he was woken by her scream two nights before the first assignment. All he remembers was seeing red and he still feels the impression of a boot on his back two weeks later. Air gusts past his teeth, the words punctuated by air more than his voice. "I'll kill him." He falls to his knees, shoulders shaking with rage and feels a fire ignite deep within him. "If I ever see him even raise a hand to you again, I'll kill him."

"I… can handle it." Benu stands slowly.

"Not alone." Nassr still shakes but his temper has cooled and dread fills its place. "Should have never left you alone."

"Nassr, quit your worrying. I'm. Fine."

"You don't look fine."

"I am." Benu jams her fists to her sides. "Drop it. That's an order, Nassr."

"Of course, Lady Benu."

* * *

"Of all the days for things to return to normal…" The unamused phrase slides past Aromhe Sharti's teeth as she shrugs off the leather jacket and quickly stuffs it into the closet and pulls her cloak swiftly from a hanger. She slings it onto her shoulders only after ensuring the signed contract from the day prior is still in the inner pocket, and bolts out the door barely managing to affix the last clasp before rounding the corner. "Not exactly time for a leisure walk through the halls…" She sidesteps by two other Rare Hunters who clearly do not understand the concept, only to realize as she passes the next hallway that those two are always in that spot at that hour with coffee in hand.

Good ness she needs caffeine! And a week off and a new set of shoes (as she can feel the tiles against her toes through the worn soles of her current set- quite literally dragging the feet does that) and countless other things she'll never ask for. She has to back step to Gabriel Roi's room like the day before.

"Roi! Come on, we'll be late!" Arlomhe bangs loudly five times on the closed door.

"Geeze girly, stop it! Somebody already came and got 'im!"

"Who, Rouse?" Arlomhe starts to panic, _I was supposed to retrieve him… if somebody else did-_

"Girly, relax, it was the kitchen lady!"

Arlomhe rounds on Rouse grabbing him by the neck of his cloak. "Her _name_ is Raji, or in your case Ms. Rejorahl, and I swear if I ever hear you call her anything else, she'll have a new assistant that very day. Do I make myself clear, Rouse?"

"Okay okay, geeze girly clearly you're not a morning person."

"Also, Sharti, not 'girly'. Now go back to bed, clearly you're not a morning person either." Her grip and anger slacken completely.

He returns to his door with a parting shot. "For somebody in a hurry, you sure had no qualms about wasting time on me."

Arlomhe shrugs the comment off and heads for the kitchen, in sore need of a hot breakfast…if she's going to be late anyway, may as well eat something so that the resulting lateness-induced knot in her stomach won't be near as bad.

She steps into the kitchen and doesn't even get to sit before Raji pushes her out as fast as the rapid fire explanations she gives. "Was left a note to not let you stick around, that you were meeting him at 9 and it's now 8:45 and if you're late- I will not have that on my hands, missy."

"But Raji-"

"No buts, Ms. Sharti. Here's breakfast." Raji presses a small, filled loaf into Arlomhe's hand. "Minced apple and cinnamon filling, you'll like it."

"But-"

"Go, go! For goodness sake it's his first day back and you very well know he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"You don't act like this when he leaves you notes…"

"Two week late monthly consumables review." Raji clenches her fists and Arlomhe doesn't miss their subtle trembling. "Just go!"

"Raji, just _two_ minutes…" She sighs with relief as the pushes toward the door finally stop. "Are you ok?"

The only response Arlomhe receives is a penultimate push out the door and towards The R.H.'s office. She turns on a heel to face the door, pushing it open slightly. "Thank you for breakfast. It's very appreciated."

Raji flashes a small smile. "I gave that to you cold, how forgetful of me." She pulls the filled loaf from Aromhe's hand. "Two minutes should do it."

"It's a miracle I was able to get dressed in the right clothes this morning." Arlomhe leans against the counter close to the door as Raji places the small loaf into the still warm oven. "I guess we both rather quickly got used to him being away from the office."

"He didn't even miss a beat. Straight to that review… as if two weeks hadn't gone by. His focus is-" Raji rubs her hands on her upper arms as if cold. "It's quite unnerving."

"Quite unnerving, indeed." Arlomhe shifts her weight to the doorframe. "His stillness more so." She looks down to her hands. "I don't know whether normalcy leaves me relieved or terrified."

"Unfortunately, I think it is a good mixture of both." Raji removes the loaf from the oven and then wraps it in a small, clean towel. "If I leave it any longer, you'll be late." She slides it across the counter and then the futile self-warming gesture reappears. "And that would certainly not be good."

Arlomhe suppresses a shudder. "No… That wouldn't be good." She slides the toweled loaf from the table and dashes out the door. The cold immediately swoops in and her hands are the only things kept warm until she presses the loaf to her chest. Relief sweeps through her upon seeing the door to the office hallway shut and then to dread as she sees Bryn waiting to its right.

"It's been weeks. I'd think The R.H. would have quit making you account for your every move by now."

"Technically, it started the week before that business trip…And as far as I know that requirement is unfortunately still in place." Bryn glances to the eight sheets of paper held to his right side. "Regardless, it's smarter to err on the side of caution."

"I still think that demotion is still unwarranted." Arlomhe unwraps the still warm loaf from the towel.

"Why is your breakfast bigger than mine was when I'm bigger than you?"

"I guess I'm Raji's favorite." Arlomhe cheekily sticks out her tongue for a second and then bites into her breakfast. "This is _almost_ as good as her honeyed bread."

"Well, _nothing_ can beat that." Bryn places a hand to his chin. "Y'know, every so often I get reminded at the fact that we're lucky he didn't hire an ex-prison cook."

"You don't have personal experience, do you?"

"Oh, I've heard horror stories."

"Speaking of that, I've heard horror stories about what we're waiting for…"

" _You_ " Bryn points for emphasis "have nothing to fret over."

"That does nothing to lessen the anxiety." Arlomhe steadily wrings her hands. "His first day back. And this time I returned from my excursion conscious. And I can't really employ my usual 'Avoid him for a few days so he can calm down' strategy."

"That's a smart strategy, mind if I steal it?"

"The nature of your position isn't really conducive for that."

"Stop worrying- you were successful. And in case you forgot, The R.H. likes successful." He hears her slide down the wall and follows suit. "Hey, you came back on your own feet this time, that's an improvement. And I know _you_ like improvement from anybody. Sometimes we just need somebody else to point ours out." After a moment he leans onto his bent knees. "And aside from that one snafu that no one should really fault you for that happened the first day I met you-" His face sours at the mere acknowledgment of that. "You always hold yourself with the most impressive backbone I've ever seen." He pauses. "It's scary."

Arlomhe elbows him lightly. "You flatter me." She smiles as she stands, inching her hands up the wall. "But you do always give a good pep talk."

"Glad you appreciate them…. What can I say, you've grown on me, kid."

"Bryn, I'm not a-" But her protest halts as the outer door opens and Gabriel Roi steps out, and with slow, purposeful movements stops in front of her.

"He wants to see you." She watches Bryn start to move from the wall before Gabriel quietly adds, "Just you."

As Arlomhe side steps toward the door, she quickly beckons Bryn over. "Help him recover a bit would you?" Bryn nods and Arlomhe squares her shoulders as she quietly steps inside.

* * *

 **DH:** Next update will hopefully be that plunny of doom that's ripping my heart in two. Thanks for reading and please review.


	5. Chapter Five

**DH AN:** Yes, I know this isn't the plunny of doom that still needs its second part. But an update is an update right? Enjoy **Chapter Five** of **An Heiress' Mantle.**

 **AN 2:** Spoilers for **Not As I Know Him** are present (Not out of place because well)

I have very little self-control and follow these infuriating bunnies down the trails, spoilers be darned.

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

Each step into the hallway fills Arlomhe with dread. After the second step, she pulls the door shut and cannot stave off her shaking as she checks her inner pocket to make sure the signed contract is there four times. Only the four reassuring contacts with the soft paper let her proceed. Step by step and little by little, the tension eases and spreads so that it's not a giant knot in the pit of her stomach, but it's still present. About halfway through, the tension increases.

Again she let him go…

 _If the cameras_ weren't _malfunctioning?_

She's left to face another interrogation.

 _And how do I explain the handkerchief?_

She faces a major dilemma that has dire consequences regardless of which stand she takes.

 _How do I cope with my brother just waltzing back into my life?_

She halts at that acknowledgement, trembling. _What if Marik's still-_ She banishes the thought, still the trembling lingers."Sharti, not Khouri." She exhales. The phrase is slow, soft.

"Sharti, not Khouri." She repeats again, softer but far more punctuated.

"Sharti, not Khouri." Her voice has dropped to a whisper but the assertion resounds in her core. _The R.H. isn't_ that _deep in my head. And he's not…_ She can't finish that thought because technically...it's not entirely true. She rubs the cloth held in her right outside pocket.

Why did she let Nassr leave- twice?

 _Because that was how it had to be. But does that mean that's how it must stay?_ She shakes those thoughts away. What's done is done. It cannot be changed.

She resolves to keep the handkerchief; it's the option with the least unpleasant consequences.

 _I don't know why he was here._

 _I don't know why he was here._

 _I don't know wh-_

She's at the office door before the third repetition is finished. Again, she checks a fifth time to ensure that stupid piece of paper is still there. To be fair, this is her first day back as well. And Bryn is right, she was successful and The R.H. likes successful. She quietly twists the doorknob and steps inside, locking it. The R.H. stands near the inner left corner with his back to her.

"I am glad to see you, Ms. Sharti." He steps back and clears his throat to disguise a cough. "Lock the door."

"Already done." She doesn't miss the rearrangement of the chairs, two facing each other in front of the desk, one with a view of the desk and the other with a view of the door. She takes the seat facing the desk. The third one is out of sight and she doesn't dare look for it.

The R.H. turns and watches as Arlomhe reaches for the signed contract, but he holds up a hand and shakes his head lightly from side to side. "Not yet, Ms. Sharti." He steps past her to the left and tests the door with a light twist, satisfied as it only yields slightly. "You doubt my recovery." The accusation is quiet.

He steps past her right and takes the other seat. "In turn, I suppose it fair to admit that I doubt yours. Your shoulder Dear One- that will heal soon enough. But the other after effects…" He stands and steps around her, watching her tense as he very lightly brushes his fingers along her right shoulder and lets his hand fall back to his side. "I do not blame you for avoiding the one who sent you into that _trap-_ " The emphasis punctures the air. "-alone." He slowly now claims the seat. He exhales, idly running his thumb along his fingertips once, his gaze still unnervingly on Arlomhe. Her subtle squirming prompts an equally unnoticed shift to focus on the filing cabinet. "Your reluctance stems from elsewhere." The statement is matter of fact, slowly enunciated, and does nothing to put her at ease.

He watches as her eyes dart every which way but one. He stands and again faces the back wall. "This reluctance of yours must end soon." He affords her a glance over his right shoulder. "I'd much rather it be your choice than at my discretion." He back-steps and stops right behind her ear. "After all, a father's duty is to do everything to protect their child from harm."

The chair audibly skids backward and Arlomhe is on her feet in a half-second. She shakes as she breathes in and out audibly. He counts five cycles before she finally speaks. "Do you think you've failed to do so?"

He paces softly towards her and runs his fingers gently along her shoulder once more. "You wear proof of that failure."

"Don't I wear proof of success as well?"

"And at what cost did that come, Dear One?" The phrase comes hot through his teeth.

"That collapse wasn't your fault." The words are hollow, only propelled by air. "Guilt does nothing in your favor Sir."

"I sent you i-!"

She cuts him off. "I did as you asked." It's the first thing she's said that's even close to full-bodied. She turns swiftly on her heel and looking at the floor she trembles and her voice again goes soft. "I've always done as you asked." The throbbing pain in her shoulder flares and she suppresses a reaction; it's been that way for at least a week. She watches him again test the door, and notes the change in his posture as he still finds the door locked. In a single word, it's relief.

He steps towards her and slowly pulls her into his arms and holds her there. Soft, rare, a small cherished moment that he cannot bear to end. "I am very glad to see you, Mheralo, make no mistake of that." He doesn't dare even think to run his hands through her hair. It's an action that could send her reeling twice in as many days. He stiffens as he realizes her right shoulder and upper arm are smooth under the cloak's cloth. "You've stopped bandaging your shoulder."

"It's been three weeks. I'm fine." She can't hold back her grimace as her shoulder throbs again in protest.

"You _act_ as if you're fine." He tilts her chin gently with his fingers. "I doubt your recovery enough as it is; blatant disregard for your injury-which should still be bandaged if you plan on acting as if nothing's wrong- only eases it from doubt into the uncomfortable acknowledgement as fact." He back-steps to the door and unlocks it. "Take Harkin with you and get yourself properly bandaged." She doesn't move forward, instead grasping at the signed contract in her inner pocket, ensuring it was still there a sixth time. She hears him pace, the time between each step constant, slow, careful, deliberate.

She counts four paces when he loosely grasps her right wrist and carefully draws the contract gripped in her fingers out from its concealment. "I assume you had no trouble with the negotiation?" He grips the bottom of the folded paper but does nothing to force it from her hands.

"I succeeded."

"Then why check for the fruit of that as if you doubt it exists?" He pulls the paper slowly from her fingers.

"Last time you sent me somewhere, I couldn't confirm success…"

"Sharti, your retrieval was successful, no doubt flawless." He sidesteps and moves past her, placing the folded paper on the corner of the desk. "Your _return_ was where it went awry." He looks at the wall. "It is quite the prize…did you reconsider your choice to not see it in the three weeks away?"

"That… that hasn't changed." The last thing she needs is sight of the tangible catalyst that sparked the ordeal in the first place. Even if she hadn't been caught in that collapse, Arlomhe Sharti wouldn't have looked on the spoils; if one becomes too focused on the reward, it invites carelessness.

That's not something she can afford. Ever.

" _You're weak." He spits "What use could I possibly have for someone who is so easily ruled by their fear."_ She trembles and clenches her fists. The reaction wasn't simply careless, it was the stupidest thing she'd _ever_ done.

The R.H. reclaims his seat and rather idly pulls a deck box from his pocket. "Did you win?" His query is careful as he flicks open the box with his thumb.

"Did I win what?"

He ignores the redirected question, and instead pulls the deck from its confines, wrapping his fingers around the trailing narrow width. He slides his fingers slightly down the height of the stacked cards so that a few are unhindered. "Draw."

"Why?" Her voice drops and she starts trembling minutely. 'Brutal' was far too kind a term for that combo… she'd delayed its full force but she should have known that such an essential strategy would include multiples of every card it could-

"Please just this once; I ask you to honor this small request that relates to your ordeal Dear One."

"What did you see?" She refuses to let her voice break completely, but it's close enough to that point that it doesn't matter.

"Something I wish to confirm."

"What. Did. You. See. Sir?" Her voice is a whisper and both fury and fear are thick in her words. Even if he didn't see all of it… if he saw _that_ … she'd never hear the end of it…

He stays silent.

With a lightly trembling hand, Arlomhe Sharti draws the standard five from the deck before her with her index and middle fingers extending and curling to pull the cards in succession. She doesn't look at them, instead holding them aloft face down.

"So you did have a duel."

Arlomhe trembles, finally bringing herself to nod in confirmation. She destroyed the wrong second card- if she'd gone with the other… Jam Defender was a must. Choosing between Infinite Cards and Card of Safe Return was harder. If she'd chosen Infinite Cards instead, that choice might have bought her more time. Unlikely, as Marik had near twenty cards in his hand. No doubt he was ready with a copy of each. She played right into his hands.

"I'm sure you did your best." His voice draws her from her thoughts. She surrenders the five cards she drew.

"All my best got me was rammed against a brutal five card strategy." She shakes. "I never even stood a chance against him."

"Against me." He still holds the five cards drawn. She pales further and her tremors increase. "Even in sleep your face contorted in a way markedly similar to that look you get when I back you into a tight corner."

"And you're holding it… aren't you?" When not in use, decks were typically stacked in a certain preference; his preference is to usually have the crux of the deck in easy reach.

The R.H. does not answer. Confirmation would result in a downward spiral that would only be remedied by breaking their agreement and that's not something he wants to chance. Even this accidental circumstance is hitting Arlomhe Sharti squarely in all the wrong places.

She looks like the little three year old who got caught literally red-handed in that bowl of pomegranate seeds… coupled with that look of being able to do absolutely nothing as that grand strategy unfolds. She's pale, trembling, and if he's not mistaken, her forehead is clearly dappled with sweat.

The R.H. pushes the five cards into the deck and then slides it back into the box. "You may leave at any time you wish." The offer of an out is the best option that he can give her.

"What did you see?" Arlomhe's voice nearly breaks and her gaze is fixed on the floor. "Did…Did you use the…?"

"I didn't…. I couldn't."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?"

He doesn't have time to answer before a paper comes under the door facedown. "Retrieve that, Ms. Sharti."

She does so without question, ensuring that she doesn't see what's on it.

The R.H. slowly pulls the missive from her fingers. He scans. He steps towards the door and then turns on his heel to stop behind her. "Well, well, well…" She shudders in near terror at the glee dripping from his tone. "Looks like I get to make my return with a bang."

He paces to the desk and sets the paper on it. "You're dismissed to see to your shoulder, Sharti." It's sharp, almost staccato, and conveys that he wants her out of his sight as soon as possible. Arlomhe nods slowly and rises from her seat to make her exit.

* * *

 **DH:** As a side note, if you like Benu, (Oft dubbed as Ataahua's aviary) there's a new Benu-centric fic, **An Emerald Phoenix Renewed** that **Ataahua** published this past week AND I LOVE IT…

A small reminder that the vexing little bird (And a handful of others) is not mine, and on loan to me if you will. Maybe that's why I'm so antsy about getting her right…

Please Review and please go read and review her fic, I mean I do the favorite birdy justice but **Ataahua** kinda blows my paltry attempts to shambles. Which is to be expected.


	6. Chapter Six

**DH AN:** Well looks like I have an early Christmas gift. A double update for **An Heiress' Mantle!** Actually I kinda wrote Chapter Seven before even starting Chapter Six but an update is an update right? And no I haven't forgotten about completing the Plunny of Doom that's ripped my heart in two every other line.

 **AN 2:** Just a brief reminder that this Fic occurs after **Not As I Know Him** has been resolved.

 **AN 3:** As always a big Thank you to the lovely **Attahua** for allowing me the use of her Aviary. Also, go read her fic **An Emerald Phoenix Renewed.** Vexing Little Bird deserves all the love. Enjoy **Chapter Six.**

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

Arlomhe steps outside the office, still shaking. Of all the days for things to return to normal. She finds Bryn still waiting by the outer door.

"I sent Gabriel to the kitchen… Raji's a lot better at restoring morale than I am." Bryn watches as she shows the most pathetic smile he's ever seen. "Looks like I might need to send you that way too."

"I'm fine, Brynny."

"And I'm getting a raise." The sarcasm drips from his words. "Your bluffs really need work."

"Can you come with me?" Her left hand immediately presses against her right upper arm.

"You're really confusing sometimes y'know. Recently, you've kept insisting you're not a kid but then you need your hand held a second later."

"I can't quite convince myself that things won't come crashing down on me today."

Bryn's fists clench loosely and shame etches itself onto his face. "If I had been ten minutes sooner I-"

"Would have probably been caught in the collapse too." She stops and leans against the wall. "Again, you got me out. Demotion aside, you were the hero of the day." She paces rather slowly and keeps the fingers of her right hand in contact with the wall.

"So… something's been bugging me." Bryn breaks the monotony after a few moments.

"Is it about still having to lug pen and paper around and provide account for everything you do when there are cameras doing the exact same thing? Because that seems annoyingly redundant." Arlomhe shrugs and immediately regrets it.

Bryn's halt is audible and his voice goes soft. "Why didn't you rat me out or hang that rather embarrassing situation over my head?"

"Because it's not right to hold a stupid mistake over somebody's head…" Arlomhe doesn't voice that rumor that's been going around for years that suggests she's in a position far more suggestive than merely whispering in The R.H.'s ear that would only be solidified in the eyes of some, should word travel as it naturally does. "And for goodness sake, you were rambling about the wrong century and about seven months ahead of yourself; that's embarrassing enough. Telling on you would just really make things worse." She cracks a grin. "Besides, that's something a 'Ms. Human Sword' would do." The smile vanishes. "If you recall, I'm 'Ms. Human _Shield_.'"

"You were never supposed to hear that."

"Well, it's not exactly inaccurate. And relax, would you… It's kinda natural to lose a bit of your filter when under the influence of alcohol."

"That _better_ be from something you had read." Bryn rubs his temples with his left hand.

"One, I'm underage. And two… if I were of drinking age, inebriation isn't a luxury I'd be able to afford."

"I don't think either of us understands how lucky I am that you caught me making a liquid-courage fueled fool out of myself." Arlomhe hears the disdain laced through the euphemism. Her face twists in discomfort at a light jab of pain right where the shoulder and arm meet and it's useless to hope Bryn doesn't notice. "So the shoulder's acting up again."

"I quit bandaging it a week ago." She waits for the second lecture.

"You know that was stupid, right?" Arlomhe sighs and nods in confirmation twice. "And you're going to keep it bandaged till you're given the official all clear, right?" Arlomhe again nods twice.

"You scared a lot of people." Bryn carefully puts his hand on her left shoulder. "You scared me. You scared Raji… goodness poor woman nearly fainted when they brought you in. And she's someone who sometimes slices into her own fingers by accident without batting an eye on the rare occasion it happens." Bryn shudders. "You scared _him_. Do you have any idea how much it takes to do that?" Then Bryn stuffs his hands in his pockets. "He didn't leave your bedside for two days." It's an afterthought and the phrase is a whisper strewn with mild disbelief. The whisper makes her think that was something he wasn't supposed to see.

"Two days?" Her start is audible.

"As far as I know." Bryn steps alongside her and spares her a glance. "But then again, he piled on enough paperwork to bury me for three weeks. I finally finished all that yesterday."

Arlomhe stifles a giggle. "You always are in the nick of time."

"You and I both know I'm just lucky that business trip took as long as it did."

"Why didn't you tell me about the paperwork problem?"

"You're still in a twist over _my_ demotion. You really think I was gonna give you something else to consider stepping in for?" He rubs his finger and thumb along his forehead in frustration. "Sometimes I doubt whether you have even a shred of self-preservation in your body."

"You're saying I care too much." Arlomhe halts and stuffs her hands into her pockets, choking the concealed cloth in the right pocket and the material of the left pocket itself. "Aren't you?"

"There's no such thing."

"Would you rather I didn't care at all?"

"I'm not suggesting that." The words come with uncharacteristic haste. "After all, you're probably the only person gutsy enough to even think to attempt making sure we get any time off."

"I'm still hoping that I won't have to even think of nudging him this year on that… You think I would have sworn off that after the year he almost put a blanket denial on all the holiday season requests…" She rubs her hands together in a vain attempt for warmth. "Fortunately I was able to convince him otherwise."

"I knew I owed somebody for my good fortune on that!"

"Consider the debt paid."

"Oh nonononono, me getting you out of that mess was not even at the same level and you know it."

"That was two years ago and I don't have time to keep track of IOUs."

"You helped me see my family for the first time in years." Bryn sighs and he leans against the wall. "Maybe for the last time too."

"You asked him?"

"He said no."

"Does he know about your family situation?" Arlomhe trembles. "About how your sister could be _dying_?"

"No…Well you're the only one who I've actually told; I try to keep my professional details and personal details separate if it's of my own choice." He reveals a small sad smile. "And it's my mother. My sister is the closest thing that my mother has to a nurse; she provides very basic around the clock care."

"So no calls mean your mother's gotten worse?"

Bryn nods slowly, and he's started shaking.

"This isn't right." She pulls his sleeve back towards the direction they'd come. "This isn't right." She repeats with a gentle yank on the sleeve. "We're fixing this right now."

"What do you not understand about 'he said no'?"

"Extenuating circumstances." With another abrupt yank of his sleeve, she gets less than a foot before he digs his heels in and loosely grasping Arlomhe's sleeve, pulls back. "Harkin, let go!"

"Sorry for the abrupt lesson on self-preservation." He gently pulls his sleeve free and releases hers. "But it proves my point; you don't have an ounce of it in your body."

"Bryn! This isn't right and you know it."

"There's backbone and then there's stupidity- you're bordering on the line."

"Was it retaliation… for not getting me out of that mess unscathed?"

"I don't know."

"Well he does and I _will_ get an answer." The words come through her teeth as she takes a step forward.

"Ms. Sharti, please for once in your life, think before you step in something."

"I always do."

"Sure doesn't look like it from where I stand." Bryn sidesteps around to effectively bar her from proceeding further. "And we really do need to see to that shoulder.

"What part of 'I'm fine' don't you seem to get?"

"The holding your shoulder and grimacing in pain part." Bryn states flatly. "You'll feel better." He adds as an afterthought.

"Then we go get you your time off."

"No. Then we leave it be." Bryn shakes his head and gently pulls her back towards the direction of the infirmary. "There's no need to send you into another trap."

"It wasn't your fault."

"No matter how many times you repeat that it's not going to make me magically feel better."

"That won't make me stop saying it." Arlomhe lets loose a small laugh. "I get a small smile from you every time."

"What can I say, you've grown on me kid." They stop at the infirmary door. "Come on, let's get you patched up so that you can care beyond what I think is wise to your heart's content."

"How're you holding up?" Arlomhe frowns. "Geeze here you are fretting over me like a mother hen for two weeks and I'm just now realizing that you might've been injured too."

"Surprisingly, the thick shirt did its job." He cracks a grin. "I was a little achy and prolly went deaf for two days, because livid doesn't even start to express his displeasure that such a simple retrieval mission was botched." Arlomhe doesn't miss the shudder that travels head to toe from the man. "That whole you being unconscious thing didn't help either."

"Bryn I'm sorry. This mess is all my fault."

"And I'm king of the world."

"Brynny, I'm serious!" Arlomhe steps inside, barely avoiding a trembling fit. "That demotion should be mine, you shouldn't have to account for every single thing you do, and he shouldn't be withholding something from you when you may not get another chance."

"Well, it's not yours, I'm kinda stuck doing it until told otherwise and he can and he did. Drop it, would you?"

"What if I-?"

"Ms. Sharti, I can handle it. I don't need or want you sticking yourself in matters that really don't concern you." His entire body is tight as they pace back to one of the single occupant rooms.

"I'm sorry. I'll leave it be, if that's what you want."

"No matter how much I may want that, you won't change overnight." Bryn sighs somewhat shakily. "Sorry for snapping at you." He opens the door and shoves her very lightly in. As he flicks on the light switch he adds "If you really want to do something for me, don't be so darn reckless. Now I'm gonna go tell somebody you're here to get that shoulder of yours bandaged, then hopefully I can _finally_ be done with the making note of everything I do."

"Hopefully Brynny." Arlomhe smiles at him as she plants herself on the bed.

Bryn pulls his head out of the doorway and quietly shuts the door. Arlomhe then immediately shrugs out of her cloak and the cold swoops in on her unprotected arms. Long sleeves are certainly in order for the rest of the day. She pulls the shirt over and off her head and lets it only slightly slide down her arms, barring it from sliding any further by pressing it between her chin and collarbone. She lets a wince slide past her teeth as she catches sight of the still present bruise. The attendant comes in after two knocks and an "Are you decent Ms. Sharti?" It's a quick job- even so she still can't watch the careful attendant wrap bandages around her shoulder; that part of the hallucination is still far too clear.

"All done." He states with a poor attempt at a smile.

"Is it worse?" All he can do is nod.

"Long sleeves are probably a good idea."

"I'll get right on that." Now it's her turn to attempt a smile. "Thanks."

He leaves and then she shrugs her shirt back on and slides her cloak over her shoulders, clasping the garment by touch. She exits out the private room's door and then makes her way out of the infirmary like a bullet. She skids to a stop at the hallway and dashes to the door of her allotted room, clinging to the knob as she nearly doesn't stop.

Quickly she pulls the first long sleeve shirt out of that drawer on the dresser and changes. She tosses her cloak onto the chair back, or that's what she had intended, but the cloak fell to the floor with a dull thud. Something threw the weight off. Her hand immediately goes rooting through the inner pocket to find the standard black flip phone that she'd yet to return to its proper place and then she finds the more probable culprit: The R.H.'s full set of keys- his office, the card vault and she can only guess what else. She doesn't exactly recall how or when they got into her possession- she's been using the one key that was result of his good mood almost six years prior. The only reason she can think of was over and done with a week and a half ago. So why hadn't he requested them back upon his return?

There are at least ten keys on the ring and the keychain itself is fitted with a heavy, thick, rectangular brass key tag engraved with those initials that a small part of her wishes she could forget. She runs her finger over the engraving with a soft exhale.

He absolutely terrifies her. That much is clear. But withholding his keys intentionally or otherwise does nothing but invite a wrath that not even she would be safe from. Pocketing the keys, Arlomhe heads for his office after pulling her cloak back on over her shoulders. She begrudgingly pokes her head into the atrium on her way; that room isn't one she'd be in of her own choice but she wants to check everywhere.

Upon reaching the office's concealed hallway, she opens the door with far more force than necessary. She doesn't bother knocking on the office door and instead tries the doorknob. To her surprise, she finds it unlocked. She spies the long-forgotten armchair -perfect for a nap- in the office's left corner as she warily steps inside. Arlomhe drops the keys into the upper tray, drags her feet over to the door and, the attempt to resist that nice armchair in vain, locks herself inside the office; shuffling over to the armchair, she collapses into it and drifts off to sleep.

* * *

The R.H. admits a small smile when he catches Arlomhe Sharti napping in the armchair to his right as he quietly steps out of the shelf-concealed hallway. That smile quickly slips into the far too easily setting frown as he sees the holes in the bottom of _both_ of her boots. He will never understand how she manages to neglect her own needs while always ready to step in for another at the first sign of trouble. He steps lightly out of his shoes and then paces over to the desk to mentally review the details. Even in his less than stellar physical state, this retrieval won't present any problems. The keys in the upper tray catch his attention. Carefully, he turns on a silent heel to survey the girl anew. At least they were in good hands, though he wished he had known that she'd had them. It would have saved him quite the bit of uncharacteristic fretting. With a soft exhale, he recalls that there is a more pressing matter to tend to- aside from not alerting the girl to his entrance into and departure from the office. He pulls a sheet of paper from the desk, penning _Better footwear Dear One,_ and leaves the now folded in half note in the little space where her right elbow bends. Fortunately her head is nestled into the opposite elbow.

Quietly retrieving his shoes, he steps towards the door and unlocks it far slower than necessary. He paces to the hallway door before stepping into his shoes. The R.H. pushes that door open and flings it shut with a touch too much force. Surely the noise has woken his office napper. He frowns. _Shame, she probably needed the sleep._

* * *

Arlomhe jolts awake and narrowly avoids banging her head against her right forearm, only thanks to the paper rubbing against her nose first. Her eyes briefly scan the note while she tries to push the instantly present mocking tone out of her head. That shouldn't be the first thing she applies. It's been three weeks… it should be easier to understand that it wasn't real. She inhales through the nose and exhales through the mouth once before pushing the note into her cloak's left pocket and standing from the chair. Checking her analog wristwatch with all the Arabic numerals present on the watch face, she finds that she napped for close to an hour.

Arlomhe's attention shifts to the desk. She sees the keyring gone from the tray. If the note hadn't given away the fact that The R.H. had stepped in to find her napping in the chair, the absence of his keys would have. As it was, it confirmed he had been there. She steps over to the desk and her eyes are drawn to the white sheet of paper she handed him about two hours prior. She flips it over and scans it, twisting a handful of her hair around her finger once and then drawing the finger clean through. _He… He's got to be kidding._ _This is a bad, bad, bad idea. He just came back today, and really if I had any sway whatsoever left I would have advised taking another day._ She suppresses a groan. "I _did_ advise taking another day." She lets the words slide past her teeth. She waits about half a minute more before exiting the office, retrieving the approved borrowed set from the spring-loaded compartment on the right side of the hall to lock the door, placing them back to the correct place and then bolts for the only other pair of shoes she has. It's a new pair of tan house shoes, but they're still miles better than her boots. Wet socks are no fun.

She grabs the small utility knife from the very bottom of her bottom dresser drawer and stuffs it into her pants pocket. This retrieval could very well go without any snags, and normally she wouldn't be as panicky about it. However, the bad feeling about this whole thing isn't something she is willing to ignore. Looking only to the spoils invites carelessness; it's something she's seen proven for years. She jogs with light steps through the halls, audibly inhaling and exhaling once upon reaching the door to the garage.

Arlomhe steps out of the doorway into the garage. This is also a bad, bad, bad idea. She doesn't even know which car he's taking or if he's even taking a car at all. Odds are in favor of the car though as this isn't exactly a leisure-trip and a car is at least a bit more audibly inconspicuous than a motorcycle; those engines don't exactly purr.

She quickly catches sight of a black sedan that has its trunk and driver's side back door open. Stuffing her shoes into the large inner pocket and flattening them as much as possible, she dashes for the open backdoor and pulls herself in facedown to wedge into the small carpeted area between the front and back seats. She's just settled in as comfortably as she can be, now somewhere between lying on her stomach and her side with her back facing the front of the car, when she hears footsteps, something being placed into the trunk, and then feels the floor reverberate slightly as the back door is pushed shut. Five minutes pass before she hears any sound again, as it's one of the few vehicles with a near soundproof cabin. Her employer is probably doing a visual inspection of the car.

The front driver's door opens and shuts and she can barely hear the jingle of keys over her own pounding heart that not even the noise of the engine starting can drown out. _That 'no sense of self-preservation whatsoever' will likely be my undoing. I just hope it's not tonight._

She exhales softly and drifts off to sleep again; car rides and armchairs are always sleep's harbingers.

A combination of the soft squealing brakes and the cessation of the engine lightly rouses Arlomhe from sleep. The slam of a car door almost makes her bolt upright, and she fights that instinct just barely. Only two minutes later does she readjust as a dull flash lights the area for a second. With slow and deliberate breaths, she begins counting the time on her wristwatch.

* * *

 **DH:** Okay so that's the other reason I'm posting these two chapters together, because you're kinda dying to know what'll happen next… or maybe that'd just be me if I were the reader. Please Review.


	7. Chapter Seven

**DH AN:** Here's **Chapter Seven**

 **AN 2:** Just a brief reminder again that this Fic occurs after **Not As I Know Him** has been resolved.

 **AN 3:** As always a big Thank you to the lovely **Attahua** for allowing me the use of her Aviary. Also, go read her fic **An Emerald Phoenix Renewed.** Vexing Little Bird deserves all the love. Also thanks to her for ruining a perfectly good intimidating moniker... but it IS accurate so... it's not really ruined, I just have to giggle every time those initials pop up!

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

Arlomhe counts an hour on her watch. This is not like him at all. The R.H. doesn't lie in wait, he makes an entrance. Realization pricks her mind, as again she swears she sees somebody stalking through the parking garage. But admittedly from her vantage point on the floor wedged between the front and back seats, her perception is more than a little off.

Even with time for… procurement of a more legitimate entry method…a retrieval like this shouldn't take more than half an hour. Upon hearing a definite _thud_ that booms throughout the underground parking structure, she quietly makes her decision.

Consequences be damned.

She hears definite retreating footsteps- her breath hitches as the realization that they belong to Nassr slams into her- and the ding of the elevator door. She fumbles quickly for the phone in her pocket, flips it open and selects the only grouping of three she has on the thing. She thanks every deity she can think of that she runs no risk of accidentally texting her employer, as well as that between Sahin, Odion, and Harkin, help will come. She puts it on silent before attacking the buttons.

 _Back up needed. 4total needed- 2 Drivers. 1 van. No Reply, just GO! Park no more than 3 blocks away. NOT NEAR BLDG! NO CLOAKS! Depart in 30-45 min. AS_

Placing the device on the seat, she quickly unclasps her cloak by touch and slides out of the garment. She's present without her employer's go-ahead; it wouldn't do terribly well to go charging in. And if this arrangement was for him to come alone- and why _that_ didn't immediately set off the warning bells, she cannot comprehend- barging in wearing his colors would be disastrous. Her clothing choice of a navy blue shirt with tight long sleeves and black pants with four pockets has its advantage over the purple draping cloak anyway.

Sitting up slowly, Arlomhe still remains aware of the windows; quick movement naturally draws the eye and she can't be absolutely certain that Nassr and Benu are alone in a building this large. She sees a wall out the rear window; good- means her employer hasn't completely thrown common sense to the wind. The shadow of the ceiling structure along two thirds of the path to the stairwell is in her favor too. A small relief floods through her as she checks for the utility knife with a slight pat on her right hip pocket and finds it. Not the best thing to arm herself with, but it _is_ better than nothing. She pulls the phone from the seat, shuts it and slides it into her right side pocket just below the waistline of her pants. Steeling herself, she exits the car with very placed footsteps for two reasons- echo factor is larger even with her softer soled shoes and the last thing she wants is to slip.

The boring, near yearly trips to this place now seem invaluable. The likely exhibit in question is on the fourth floor. Stairwell is best point of entry, both because it'll keep her moving and she's less likely to be caught if in motion. There are two parking garages, one on the right section and one on the left and their entry points converge at the third floor stairwell. Aside from the black sedan she snuck into, there's only the bright red convertible, which Arlomhe assumes belongs to the rather unfortunate curator, parked here. It means the Cobras' aviary pair has a smidge further to go to their transport. As she moves forward, her gaze quickly sweeps left to right.

Arlomhe stills before leaving her concealment, eyes sweeping the garage three times. It's not the distance that she'll have to dash through that bothers her. Once she reaches that stairwell, there's no turning back. She glances at her watch.

An hour and a quarter. It's not like him at all. She steps off and bolts for the stairwell as if her life depends on it. She slides in and immediately begins her ascent to the fourth floor. As a precaution upon reaching the converging third floor stairwell, she crouches and is far more careful of her movements. The last thing she needs is to get nabbed by somebody from the aviary's car. She shakily exhales as she finally reaches the fourth floor entry point. Charging in is definitely stupid.

But so is going anywhere near sensitive material alone. As is following someone without their knowledge. But this has trouble written all over it.

Before she knows it, she's quietly pacing past the pharaonic busts of men long dead toward an open case on a pedestal, checking to her left and right every five paces. And she halts upon sight of the Rod with its unnerving eye. She pulls a handkerchief that's dyed this perfect shade of periwinkle, courtesy of a laundry mishap, from her left pocket and wraps it around the entirety of the item's shaft; that electrifying feeling is something she doesn't want to deal with.

She sees The R.H. facedown on the floor. She rolls her eyes and quietly forces words through her teeth. "Reason number one why you never go in alo-" Arlomhe barely has a second to react as the Rod's shiny surface reflects the barrel of a pistol… She didn't check the rafters.

"You make a move toward me and I shoot; I don't miss." Again, Benu is heard before she is seen. The pistol hammer cocks back. It's all the incentive Arlomhe needs to dive forward to the floor and surrender the loose grip she had on the Rod. She tenses, breaths light, quick, and shallow, as Benu's voice continues to float through the air. "Nassr, take your leave. The apparent Huntress and I need to have a little… girl talk."

Arlomhe catches sight of Nassr on the farthest side of a cushioned bench only for a second and then immediately looks at the pedestal's base- eyes front is always the best call. Silence hangs thickly in the air for fifteen seconds and then those same tell-tale footsteps grow more echo-y until the elevator opens, shuts and the hydraulics groan to life. Benu drops lightly from the rafters. "Now then, Ms. Sharti." Arlomhe slowly rises from the floor, noting that any facetiousness is gone from Benu's words. "I'm certain that you've probably already set your contingency plan into motion with a request for backup." Benu slinks behind the other girl, pulling the phone from its concealment. A shudder runs up Arlomhe's spine as the facetious edge returns and Benu passes the phone to her. "Call them off would you?" Arlomhe grits her teeth… The bird has her in a nasty catch-22. If she complies; she surrenders any shot at retrieval. If she doesn't, she'll likely wind up battered and or bruised- hopefully just bruised. She fights the urge to lightly press on her right shoulder as the pain flares before dulling to a radiating throb.

Surrendering the retrieval shot it is then. "Fine." Arlomhe presses the word through her teeth.

"You don't mind if I watch, do you?"

"You ask as if I have a choice." Arlomhe retorts as she selects the right letters.

 _Cancel Request. All is well. Return ETA unknown. Do not reply. AS_

She selects the "Send" option and closes the phone.

"You don't need backup anyway." Benu plucks the device from the other girl's fingers. "So long as you cooperate, and I have no doubt you will, your risk of injury is nil."

Arlomhe spins on a heel to see the phone now open and poised for breakage over Benu's bent knee. "Don't. Destroy. The phone." Arlomhe snatches the device away and opens the battery cover, revealing a small black square on the inside. "There's a tracker and the minute that any part of the device becomes electrically compromised, that tracker shuts down… serving as an SOS- which guarantees backup."

"That's just electrical tape."

"Ok ok so that was a bluff… a lousy one. But please don't…. that would be my third busted phone in as many months and it'll come out of my already sparse pay." The first one found death by washing machine and somehow the second was too close to a magnet.

"Fine. Keep the phone, but turn it off." Benu paces on Arlomhe's left side, steps light and near inaudible. "We don't really need any interruptions, now do we?"

"Do I have a choice?" Arlomhe turns to the open case on the pedestal. He came alone. He wasn't expecting anyone else. She shakes her head lightly; he should have known better.

"Not if you want to keep things civil." Benu follows Arlomhe's line of sight, "I quite regret not installing a camera. The captured images would have probably been more valuable than this card you came in for."

"I'm not after a card."

"Oh don't tell me you're after _him…_ " Benu's eyes quickly pan to her right. "Unless his famous initials stand for 'Really Hot'."

"Try 'Rarely Happy' -fits much better- and he's old enough to be my father." Arlomhe's face sours. Not technically a lie, but a smidge closer to the truth than she cares for.

"What a shame… Here I've been hoping for a guy who's as aesthetically pleasing as he is intelligent; although seeing as he walked right into an ambush and checked nothing… starting to reconsider that second bit." Benu steps around the pedestal that still bears the open case. "He clearly invested in you… who looked every which way and seemed to know the place like the back of her own hand without the blueprints…what a charming little lookout you are."

Benu then walks past Arlomhe and slowly nudges the hood off of the prone man with the tip of her boot. "You downplayed him quite a bit… he doesn't look a day over thirty."

"All faces are revealed now except for yours. Surely given the circumstance that is highly in your favor, you would do me the honor of revealing your face Lady Benu."

"I know what you're trying to do." Benu's leather boots audibly skid across the marble floor as she turns on a heel. "Not being able to read the easiest of nonverbal cues brings unease." Arlomhe nearly misses Benu's eyes shift slowly to The R.H.'s semi exposed face and then back to her. "It's a little too like him." Arlomhe stiffens as the unsettling glee rolls off Benu's tongue. "Just how close to him are you?"

Arlomhe stays rooted, focused on Benu's every movement. Holstering her pistol, Benu saunters lightly by Arlomhe's left shoulder and just past it. "Or does he just have a thing for younger women?" Arlomhe sees red as she grabs he exposed ponytail that stems from a clearly self-made hole in the balaclava with her right hand and her own utility knife with her left. She pulls hard with clearly adrenaline-fueled fury with her right hand and creates a half inch cut downward in the already damaged fabric with the knife. Tossing aside the knife, Arlomhe swiftly rips at least half of Benu's facial concealment away.

"Say that to my face!"

Benu laughs quietly and obliges. "And the fury-driven strength appears… you must truly be desperate."

And in that moment-Benu is gone, replaced by Arlomhe's hallucinated tormentor. The two steps taken are not the inaudible paces of the aviary-named ace, but the punctuated footfalls of many a man's dread.

"Where is your courage now?" It's his voice but it's far too sultry. He draws the Rod and she immediately back-steps once, twice, thrice until she trips over something and lands hard on her back. Sitting up, she realizes that he's stopped his advance and then her gaze snaps to what she tripped over.

Never in the near seven years she's been aware of it has she been glad to see that damn thing. Or thought that she'd be relieved to see that what's brandished her way is not the object at her feet. There's a first time for everything. Arlomhe shakes her head vigorously, attempting to snap out of her bizarre dazed state.

It works, as all is now visually as it should be. Benu is now in Arlomhe's direct line of sight, a long knife in her right hand in a reverse grip, tip of the blade just over the true Rod's line. Focused primarily on the knifepoint, Arlomhe spies the entire balaclava on the floor to Benu's right. And when she sees the other girl's face the only thing she can think is that Greece would have probably started _dozens_ of wars over it.

"First a gun and now a Bowie knife… are you some sort of walking armory?!"

"Asks the one who merely brought a utility knife; that's shamefully underprepared- even if you're not expecting to use it." Benu swaps the grip on the knife with far too much ease. The term _practiced_ does the action a disservice. "I prefer to be prepared than even run the risk of being caught off-guard." Sheathing the knife on her right side, her left hand immediately rests on the holstered pistol. "Consider yourself warned that I will not be again."

"Like you caught him off-guard?" Arlomhe can't hide the fear in her voice as she glances at her father, still unconscious on the floor.

"Oh, _That_ was beautiful… Don't you worry, Little Lookout, he will wake soon enough."

"He wasn't expecting you."

"His folly- something that valuable is _quite_ the bargaining chip." Benu again paces away from the opened case, aware that the girl's gaze is following her every move. "I'm certain he has his reasons… perhaps a personal one." Benu pulls the card out from her tight-fitting jacket's inner pocket. "His refusal to negotiate peaceably certainly alludes to a personal one." Benu shows the card's face. "How much do you know about your employer's power lust?"

"You tread on thin ice." Arlomhe doesn't miss the shudder that makes its way up her own spine as the words leave her lips. _It's far too much like hi-_ She trembles... and realizes in that moment her hand is now laying in full view. Her most valuable card, exposed.

Benu steps into her line of sight. "I know what you are now..." Her voice is almost annoyingly sing-song and her words rhythmically and tonally match up to the first line of "Ring around the Rosy."

Arlomhe tenses again as Benu starts to circle her. "So he does have a heart... or did he merely woo someone for the night and take his leave the morning after, only to track down his progeny years later?"

"Don't you dare insult my mother!" The words come through teeth and Arlomhe takes two steps forward.

The pistol reappears far too quickly for Arlomhe's eyes to catch. "Ah ah ah... one more step and I'll shoot... a lot of these things don't exactly mesh with a bullet. Including Daddy Dearest."

There's now one thing Arlomhe finds more unsettling than control by the Millennium Rod. And that's control by gunpoint. She grits her teeth, but halts anyway.

"Now that we see eye to eye, Heiress to Heiress as it were..." Again, Benu circles. "Did he place you in his upper echelon on your merit? For your protection? Or is the placement simply to keep you in line?" Circle two. "How far does his familial favor extend?" Circle three. "Have you ever reached its limit?" She pauses for effect as she starts her fourth rotation. "With this stunt of yours, you may well find out." Arlomhe shudders with dread at the vexing little bird's glee- mostly at the fact that she's not wrong.

As if on cue, The R.H. stirs. Benu pulls an envelope from her coat and presses it into Arlomhe's hands upon completion of the rotation. "Instructions for the deal's completion. With perhaps one minor addendum." The smile oozes from her tone as easily as it appears on her exposed face while she watches Arlomhe squirm minutely. "I'd much rather negotiate with you, seeing as Daddy Dearest really wasn't all that impressive tonight."

"You forced him into a negotiation he wasn't expecting."

"He's always insisted that he's always ready for any situation."

Arlomhe rolls her eyes. "He bluffs."

"I've provided the terms, and the location for the exchange." Benu shows a grin as she watches The R.H.'s slow and subtle return to the land of the conscious- he won't be fully aware until she's long gone. "The rest, Little Lookout, is in your court. Provided you manage to get out of _this_ mess, I have no doubt you'll be prompt and you can get right back into Daddy Dearest's good graces." She then conceals the card in it former place and starts to back-step steadily, the barely audible paces waning as they make light contact with the floor.

"Wait a minute, you can't just go!" Arlomhe watches as Benu sweeps the shredded balaclava from the floor.

"Not my problem." Again in that annoying singsong matched to that rhyme with far too much glee. All Arlomhe can do is watch as Benu slinks out the side door to the stairwell.

"Vexing Little Bird indeed…" The phrase slides slowly and softly past Arlomhe's lips. And now, she has nothing to do except wait.

* * *

 **DH:** Bad news, I had to end it there…. Good news is I have a great start on the next chapter so hopefully it won't be long before I update this again. Please Review and I hope y'all have a great holiday season if I don't post again before then.


	8. Chapter Eight

**DH AN:** First update of the new year! Again it's not the Fitzgerald plunny of doom that rips my heart in two, but… I kinda sorta have been in the zone on this one lately.

 **AN 2:** Minor spoilers for not yet written parts of **Not As I Know Him**

 **AN 3:** As always thank you to **Ataahua** (which hopefully I've finally learned to spell right) for the use of her fabulous aviary! So… enjoy **Chapter Eight**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Arlomhe exhales softly. _Mess is an understatement._ Her fists clench and she starts to tremble; she has no clue whether it's from fury or fear. Probably both- as much as she hates it, Benu's taunts are far too accurate. She has no urgent desire to face the consequences yet. While she could just leave and make her way back to the car, it's ill-advised. At the very least, he'll be disoriented. At worst... She hastily shakes that train of thought away.

She picks up the Rod, still wrapped in the cloth, from the floor and carefully steps over to slide it into the right pocket of his cloak that's larger for that very purpose. Pacing around, she inhales sharply as she catches sight of a pooling bruise on the outside of the hand- likely from attempting to break the fall. Marble hurts. She immediately grabs that wrist loosely and starts to take a pulse, finding the radial artery with ease and is reassured as she hears his light breaths.

Arlomhe only releases her own breath as she counts 60 beats in the one minute. She places his hand, palm down, on the floor.

She quietly back steps to claim a seat on the cushioned bench. A small smile flits across her face as she spares a glance to the pharaonic busts; those were always her favorite. They were always just so regal. _Moreso than that stupid gold plated statue of him-_ Her breath hitches. That is not among her employer's décor and she fervently hopes it never flits into his head as acceptable.

Three weeks should have been more than enough… _He really doesn't look a day over thirty._ Her stomach twists in knots. Hallucination or not… it still left her uncomfortable. The indisputable fact that he aged well does not at all help.

She fights away a shudder as the moment in question bursts into the quiet of her head. How before she even had a chance to react, he pulled her in and his lips initially crushed her own. How he rubbed his thumb against her cheek as a calm, gentle gesture.

 _"Why do you not wonder?"_ She tenses as she sees the lines of his face in the darkness, for a third time since the actual incident. _"And why did you not resist?"_

"What good would resisting the inevitable have done?" Arlomhe's voice is quiet, again she doesn't want to hasten the unavoidable consequences. She can't deal with two uncomfortable situations at once. And then there was that match- that still had her feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet. Of all the times she played right into anyone's hands… that was too humiliating.

She inhales sharply through her teeth, recalling that gala. Hanging on his arm was punishment enough… let alone all of the stares. Even though she was completely covered… she couldn't shake the sense of being exposed all night.

And his response of "So let them stare." still makes her want to puke. The dress was lovely… it brought out all of her features. Midnight blue was certainly her color. She feels stomach acid burn as it inches up her esophagus upon sight of her covered arms. She blows air out her nose in frustration- excellent color choice tonight.

Mere mental acknowledgement of the literal mind games leaves her trembling and her fists slowly go white. Before she can wander into that particular aspect, she hears the sound of his boots dragging lightly across the marble floor. She doesn't watch for more than a second before she quietly steps against the bottom of his shoes… it'll at least delay slipping and hopefully allow him to get a footing.

She stands as still as the pillar to her right, holding steady as the bottoms of his shoes push into the toe of her own. After two attempts, he's upright but his shaking knees immediately prompt her to take a position where her left shoulder is bearing some of his weight. Arlomhe slings his right arm over her right shoulder and his fingers immediately grasp the cloth of her shirt, narrowly avoiding pinching her skin.

That name she's rarely if ever heard him give physical voice to tumbles from his lips as a question. And even though it's clearly courtesy of the goose egg on his head, her heart absolutely shatters. Her mother's name bounces through her head with each painful shake of it she offers in denial. "I am not the one you lost." She watches as melancholy slowly settles over him. She takes small steps backward toward the bench and is beyond relieved as he matches them.

She drops to the bench and exhales softly in further relief. A glance at her watch snatches any of it away. 3 AM. Not enough time to both attempt to wipe away fingerprints and get out before the morning shift arrives. Lovely. She starts to tremble and is certain that tears will follow shortly. She registers that his head has leaned onto her right shoulder and exhaled air slides past her ear in the cadence of sleep.

"He clearly trusts you." Arlomhe nearly jumps as Nassr speaks from her left. Not that he was easily noticeable clothed entirely in black.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"You're in a bit of a bind Ms. Sharti, and I like returning favors promptly." He permits a small grin. "Or did yesterday slip your mind?"

"What could you possibly do?"

"Do you know where any of the fingerprints actually are?" His eyes glisten with mirth at her discomfort for only a second before he adds on in a more sobered expression. "And you look like you can barely hold yourself up... even with the assistance he can give you- it was cumbersome to watch."

"Don't you have your armory of a girlfriend to assist somewhere?"

"We took separate cars." Nassr paces to the glass case around the pedestal's box and starts sliding a damp cloth across its top and around both sides of the open front pane before closing and locking it with his gloved hands.

"She'll still be expecting you."

"Oh she's happy to wait."

"That came out flirty."

"You read too much into things." He drops the cloth on the floor right where her hands were and moves it with his boot.

"And water is wet." She snorts, unamused and sticks out her tongue. "You're not the first one to tell me that."

Arlomhe swears she sees the quirk of a brow as Nassr pulls the cloth from the floor. And upon looking at the glass case she realizes something. "You forgot to-"

"I wiped it down right after I... knocked him out..." He frowns slightly. "I'm sorr-"

"Oh for goodness sake don't apologize for doing your job." The words come through her teeth. "He was stupid enough to go alone, and no doubt did something to warrant it."

"He didn't go alone though." Nassr turns to face the now immaculate display absent its prize. "You followed him into what you very well knew was a trap."

"As far as he knows, he wasn't followed… or he knew from the start and plans to stew on it."

"Fortunately that rather unfortunate bump on his head gives you a little more prep time for that no doubt unpleasant conversation, whatever scenario it entails."

"And you'll disappear into the night, leaving me to face hell the morning after. Again." Her lips form a thin line as the near nine year old memory surfaces. "How am I going to explain this?"

"Don't try." Nassr steps back towards the bench to The R.H.'s right and hoists that side onto his own shoulders.

"Lying by omission isn't an option I have. Neither is outright lying for that matter." Arlomhe mimics Nassr's action with The R.H.'s opposite side and rises, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It wasn't an option nine years ago either and I'm still not sure how he didn't question it."

"Extreme luck?"

Arlomhe snorts. "Extreme luck is me holding my tongue for nine years." They keep walking. "Elevator is the best option."

"As if you'd be able to even take the stairs solo a second time."

"Nice to know you have confidence in me." The words slide past her tongue bitterly.

"Someone has to." Nassr carefully readjusts to hail the elevator with a push of a button. "Besides, anyone else would see their confidence spent rather poorly after getting into a mess like this."

"Don't remind me." They step into the elevator and she sets her finger on the button that will take it to the garage floor, but doesn't press it.

Arlomhe sees Nassr raise his brows at her hesitance. "What's really bothering you? You've got whatever it is written all over your face."

"Yup, you're definitely related-" Nassr's reaction is visceral as he drops The R.H. from his shoulders. He goes rigid and starts to shake. "Hey that's no reason to nearly leave him with another goose egg, or further aggravate my shoulder."

Arlomhe watches as his fists constrict to a surely uncomfortable tension. He inhales through his nose and exhales through his mouth once. "Reading faces with as much ease as we can is a curse."

"It has its uses." Arlomhe's face twists sourly. "It's certainly been my saving grace far more times than I care to count."

"What good is it if you can't avoid the unpleasantness you see long before you hear it?" He pushes air through his nose in a cross between frustration and bemusement. "How do you deal with him daily?"

"Very, very carefully." Arlomhe slightly readjusts so that less of The R.H.'s weight is directly on her right shoulder. "Actually, after he and your armory of a girlfriend meet up, I usually avoid him for a week." She stuffs her unoccupied hand into a pocket and shifts her weight. "Please tell me the getting knocked unconscious is an anomaly rather than the norm."

"The ones I've been witness to, this is the only one." Nassr reveals a small grin. "Is it bad that I get extremely gleeful at the fact that he looks like he was forced to swallow several lemons?"

"Only now that you know I have to deal with the aftermath… One word, disaster."

"I'm not responsible for how he deals or doesn't deal with the aftermath of tripping over his own pride." Nassr shrugs the weight back onto his shoulders. "One of these days, it's going to cost him a heck of a lot more than he anticipates."

"Arrogance more so than pride." She shakes her head lightly as she presses the button. "Having your strategies countered with an unnervingly low margin of error is very disheartening."

"Him holding that over you for who knows how many years can't be terribly good either."

"He doesn't. Not for years." The elevator door opens and they pace out into the garage. "Happens often enough that it may as well be."

"If it's not over that then why do you look like somebody put salt in your coffee?"

"Take your pick of any of the past three days' events."

"Hopefully today will be salvageable for both of us…"

"But you were successful!"

"Not until that negotiation actually goes through." Nassr's expression sours as if on cue the phone rings. "It's a text, I can ignore it."

"We both know that's not a good idea. Your partner doesn't exactly like being ignored. Does she descend from Helen of Troy?" The question tumbles from Arlomhe's lips without preamble.

"Does he descend from Narcissus?" Nassr retorts with a small inclination of his head to the unconscious man on their shoulders.

"Might as well." She pushes the phrase past her teeth with a dry laugh.

"You have your answer." Arlomhe blames the harsh fluorescent light rather than think he's actually blushing. "She is quite pleasing to the eye."

"Major crush?" She immediately holds her tongue after. That's a bit of a low blow.

"Crush my heart to pieces if she ever found out." He reads the text and quickens the pace to the car.

"Vocal warning would be appreciated." She narrowly avoids skidding into the car door.

"Get him situated inside the car!" Noting the tonal change from nonchalance to something unmistakably laced with fear, Arlomhe complies without argument. She barely hears the phone start ringing with a different ringtone as he hastily pushes the door shut - most of the sound is then drowned out by the rather luxurious near soundproof cabin.

Her view, however is unimpaired and as soon as she belts her employer into the driver-side back seat, she's watching out the window. Nassr's back is to her and it looks like it takes every ounce of self-control he has to not crush the phone in his hand. She counts two minutes before he snaps the flip-phone shut and then pulverizes it with his boot. His entire body is taut as he picks up the pieces and stuffs them into his coat pocket.

She can't hear his footsteps, but the posture alone gives the impression of harbingers of dread as he paces around to the driver's seat of the car. He opens the door, slides into the seat and she flinches as he pulls the door shut with far more force than necessary. "Keys." The demand is short, clipped and she does a double take on the clarity of Nassr's eyes- the similarity is unnerving. "The keys. Ms. Sharti." She freezes as the specific separation of the words strikes like punishing blows.

Only when she registers the rolling tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel does she dig into the console for the valet key. Arlomhe passes it to him without a word.

The taps repeat. "Your seatbelt." Again it's short but he looks a small bit more relaxed as she affixes the safety device.

"Are you ok?"

"Do I look ok?" The words slice in a whisper past his teeth and she almost doesn't catch the dilation of his pupils as his eyes narrow.

"Whatever angers you, controls you." The words slide sourly past her teeth- she hates that phrase, and doesn't care to use it. "You shouldn't give anyone that satisfaction."

"It's justified." Nassr's words are punctuated with emotion as he starts the car. She's silent as he drives out of the garage and into the predawn night to a destination only he knows.

It's all too familiar… far too familiar… treading lightly is all she can do. The similarities are terrifying… She looks out the window at the lights going by. For the first time in hours, she relaxes.

It lasts a lovely minute until Nassr jerks to a stop in response to a quickly changing traffic signal. She feels two distinct thumps from the trunk, as whatever was in it is hurled at the backseats.

"Pull over at your earliest opportunity." The request tumbles out far more demanding than she intended; she adds a very quiet "Please."

Nassr nods and after driving through two intersections, pulls to the side of the road. He takes the key from the ignition and steps around the front of the vehicle and stops at the back passenger side door. He watches her unbuckle the seatbelt and he opens the door for her and then steps aside.

He watches as Arlomhe paces toward the trunk, each step purposeful. He watches her quietly tremble as she reaches it. "Pop the trunk." Her request is the only thing in that moment that is anywhere near steady. She's shaking unmistakably with fear.

"I'm sorry."

"Your emotions were warranted, so don't apologize just pop the trunk." He watches Arlomhe's fists constrict and immediately decides it's in his best interest to comply. Jogging to the driver's side door, he pops the trunk and quietly steps backward to see what's so interesting.

She's still as a statue, staring at the two duffle bags in the trunk, a black one and a smaller gray one.

"Go-bags." Nassr murmurs and notes that the pluralization leaves Arlomhe white as a sheet. "I assume one is yours." She inhales and pushes a shaking hand to the gray one to expose the underside of one of the straps, revealing _ARS_ embroidered in purple thread. "There's no chance you forgot to remove it?"

"Absolutely none." Her voice is hushed and she swallows. "Because I put it right where it always goes when unneeded. The right corner closest to my room door." She lifts the bag with enough effort to reveal that it has something in it before setting it back into the trunk. "And it's always empty when not in use and in its proper place." The trembling returns and she starts wringing her hands. "He knew."

"Or, he anticipated."

"That doesn't make me feel better."

"I'm merely bringing other options to light." He fights a smile, but only because that won't help things either. He pushes down the trunk softly, but doesn't shut it completely. He caught sight of something else in the trunk that's piqued his interest. A shoebox. "Are you ok?"

"I snuck into the backseat of a car, waited for an hour before going in to check on him and found myself face to face with your armory of a girlfriend.-"

"She's not my girlfriend." Nassr interjects.

"You shook your head 'no' when I presented her the offer- very fervently I might add." She flashes a snarky grin. "But if you say there's no canoodling between you two, then I won't use the term anymore."

"Thank you kindly." Nassr's words are tart. "Anyway I interrupted… please continue."

The grin vanishes and the trepidation returns "Then, I get confused for my mother because of the blow to his head that caused a goose-egg." She presses a finger into Nassr's shirt. "And exactly why you're helping me still leaves me with so many questions." She steps back, towards a railing and watches as the sun kisses the horizon as it starts its ascent.

She shakes, relying on the railing for support. "And now, I find out that my go-bag is in this car- which implies things that absolutely scare me- and you have the balls to ask if I'm ok?!"

Nassr steps beside her and leans on the railing to her right. "That was in poor taste."

"I want you gone before he wakes up."

"Oh am I a flag again?"

"You're a detriment to my mental health." She exhales through her nose in almost a laughing manner that implies she's not entirely serious. Any facetiousness is gone soon after. "Waltzing into my life after nine years and inserting yourself to be the rescuer I don't entirely need isn't as appreciated as you would like." She twists a few strands of her hair around a finger. "This instance however, is appreciated given the circumstances." She exhales loosely. "That flag metaphor does still hold, however."

"Noted." Nassr purses his lips. "He treats you well?" It's a quiet question and barely given voice.

"As well as he can." She eyes the trunk wearily. "He packed my go-bag without prompting. It's another part of the reason that terrifies me. He clearly cares. His methods of showing it aren't exactly obvious." Nassr watches as she barely fights a yawn.

"You're tired." Nassr murmurs, setting a hand on her left shoulder. "Let me do one last thing for you today." He quietly slides his hand into his pocket, pulling out a hotel card key. He presses it into her hands. "Paid for two nights, only needed one. I'd hate for it to go to waste."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because you look absolutely pathetic and far worse than I saw you two days ago." He back steps to the car. "Plus, I'm responsible for your being stuck under Mr. Miserable for however long it's been."

"Let me stop you right there." She spins to face him. "Your responsibility ended the moment you up and left." She doesn't move towards the car. "Responsibility for anything after falls on me." She stuffs her hands into her pockets, next words somewhat bitter. "I learned that pretty quickly." He steps towards her, warily eying the back seat's lone occupant and as he averts his gaze forward, he sees that her eyes are along the same viewing path. He watches as her face falls into a clear look of concern.

"You reciprocate that care." Nassr observes softly.

"He scares the hell out of me. He's demanding, unyielding, and if you're the unfortunate idiot who crosses him-" Nassr doesn't miss the dread that shudders up her spine. "There's not even time to pick a god and pray."

"Is there one that you're considering?" His lip inches up on the right side just barely.

"If you don't wipe that making of a smirk off your face, you'll regret it!"

"I'd love to see you try." Nassr laughs through his teeth. "You anger just like him. Like father like daughter."

"So do you." She steps back to the car, perhaps already regretting this train of thought. "Like father like son." She watches again as that visceral rigidity reappears. "You tremble, you break, you slam, and then you strangle the steering wheel."

"I am _nothing_ like him." In that moment, Arlomhe knows not to press further; calm fury is the best unspoken warning; perhaps the only one she actually heeds. And Nassr's patience is not something she can afford to test. Years change people… one wrong move and he'll reach his breaking point, and that's not something she gets joy from. Inviting his ire isn't exactly well-advised at this point either.

"The promise of a shower and a warm bed make quite good motivators." His voice breaks her focus. "Now let's see that you get them, shall we?"

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" His eyes glance over to the still unconscious man in the back seat. "We both know I just tried to feed you an emotionally charged lie."

"I pushed you to it." She rubs her hands along her arms in a vain attempt for warmth. "If you believe it, is it really a lie?"

"It's not factually accurate, so yes- it's still a lie."

"You're not him." Her voice shakes. "You do know that, right?"

"You're not either." They pace back toward the car in near synch. "We both know that neither of us is a complete reflection of him…"His brows furrow. "It shouldn't absolutely terrify us when those moments present themselves." He turns towards the sun, bathing Arlomhe in his shadow. "Why does it frighten us so?"

"Because you remember. And I know." She paces slowly back to the rear passenger door. "You remember and vow that's someone you will never be." Nassr doesn't miss that Arlomhe's visual focus is squarely on her employer. ""I know that I can either follow him down his path exactly, or perhaps choose my own way to the same end." Her lips form a firm line. "Every time I open my mouth and he comes out, it makes me feel forever resigned to that first option."

"Have you ever considered choosing a different path entirely?"

"Seems to have worked spectacularly with you." Sarcasm drips from her words as she smiles slightly and shakes her head. "I don't know if your girlfriend is really smart, or if I was just exceptionally foolish."

"She's not my-"

"Not your girlfriend…" She rolls her eyes. "Regardless, you're extremely lucky she hasn't connected you to him yet."

"And she won't."

"Only because he kept his face concealed while conscious and you weren't in the same room . I mean, have you looked in a mirror in the last nine years? And I mean really looked." She crosses her arms. "Pretty sure if you didn't work out, you'd be on the lanky side."

"He's thin as a rail. Does he run entirely on spite?"

"Thirty-percent." Arlomhe puts a hand to her chin. "Seems like about fifty-percent black coffee, fifteen-percent making people squirm and about five-percent physical sustenance offered by food and sleep."

"And just where in those percentages is concern for you?"

"It's nestled somewhere in that 'making people squirm' category. Again, he has the weirdest ways to show it." He hears the distinct undertones of relief as she exhales. "Though he has upped his sleep recently- because he's getting over something-"

"So that's why he didn't suspect anything amiss- or check for it…."

"He failed to consider the factors and possibilities." Nassr notes the tonal shift almost immediately, and if he's honest- it scares him. It's however many years she's spent under the hood surfacing; the huntress. "Not sure if that was courtesy of his still recovering or his own natural hubris." Arlomhe clenches her fists and slowly, steadily exhales. And with that exhale returns the concerned, not so little, girl. "Pretty sure after this he'll go back to his sparse sleep schedule with ease."

"Have you tried asking him to get more sleep?"

"He's harder headed than you are, Mr. Semi-needed Rescuer."

Nassr makes a face. "That bad, huh?"

"That bad."

"Have you tried asking?"

"Out of the question." He watches her tremble and he opens his mouth to speak, but Arlomhe regains just enough composure to place a parting shot square where it hurts. "But what would you know?! You ran!" Nassr steps carefully around to the driver's side but remains near the trunk, somewhat crestfallen as Arlomhe takes that pent up emotion and hurls it at him like darts for a bullseye. "You wouldn't know of the hours I've spent doing as asked- as ordered- without so much as a thought of protest."

She trembles and faces the sun. "You wouldn't know how many times I've cared too much… that I've proven I have no self-preservation whatsoever."

He hears a faint sob wrack her frame, sliding more from her nose than her mouth. "You wouldn't know that I wrote you off as dead after two years, and that in that same year…I found myself staring The R.H. in the face, terrified as the only thing I could even see was satisfaction in his eyes that he had me right where he wanted."

She turns back to face the car and wraps her fingers around the door. "I don't need your pity." He watches her gaze drift down to her fingers. "I don't need rescuing." Her free hand closes into a fist. "And after you complete this favor of yours, I don't need to see you unless it's business related, got it?" Her hand slides from the door and curls into a fist.

"I can't agree to that."

"And I can't keep running into you like this!" Arlomhe just barely manages to miss slamming her fist into the car door. "It put me in a very dangerous position." She trembles in absolute fear- she's sweating, and the words that tumble out are anything but steady. "If I attempt to lie… it will not go over well." Nassr steps around the car as the trembling increases to full-blown shaking. "But if I tell the truth I-" She's then smothered lightly in a solid wall of muscle.

"It'll be ok." Nassr lightly squeezes and is relieved as he feels her still and slow. The relief is snatched away when she starts to softly cry, which lightly shakes her frame. "It'll be ok." He back steps towards the front passenger seat. "But let me get you into the car before you soak my shirt." He opens the door and doesn't even wait for the question. "Better to regain some composure where he can't-"

"You're crying Dear One…"

She throws a glance at the back seat, and he feels her briefly tense. "Oh thank goodness, he's just sleep-talking." The phrase is hushed.

"He sleep-talks?!" Nassr's incredulous tone destroys any of Arlomhe's remaining trepidation as he laughs lightly through his nose. "And I thought your sleep-giggling was weird."

"If you don't hurry up and get me to that hotel, I'll be sleep-drooling all over you." She plops down in the front seat and affixes the seatbelt after missing the receptacle twice.

"As you wish." He shuts the door and paces around the back of the car.

Arlomhe rolls her eyes and mutters "Related." under her breath once the door is shut.

He lingers at the trunk and opens it to again look at that shoebox. It seems somewhat out of place until he recalls the less than ideal house shoes Arlomhe is wearing. He's amazed she didn't slip on that marble floor. As he shuts the trunk, Nassr silently hopes that if he ever becomes that blatantly subtle, somebody would smack some sense into him before it became a habit.

When Nassr finally arrives to the driver's side, he finds Arlomhe snoozing in the front seat. He tsks before opening the car door. _Far far too trusting._ He starts the car and drives for about ten minutes before pulling in to a nice two-story hotel. He taps Arlomhe on the shoulder and stifles a laugh when she jumps.

"Would it kill you to announce yourself a little?" She rubs her eyes and sounds groggy.

"I need to borrow your phone."

"Why?"

"Because I smushed mine underfoot an hour and a half ago."

She suddenly becomes defensive, perking up a bit. "Which is why I don't really want to let you anywhere near mine, that's issued, and is my third in as many months."

"If you don't let me use it, I wake him up and leave you to try explaining well before you're ready." As he watches her pale, he smirks. "I assume he's still pretty unpleasant when not woken of his own choice." He leans over the parking brake console. "And that's without your little shall we say failure thrown into the mix."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, Ms. Sharti." In response, Arlomhe gets out of the car. As he's about to lay on the horn, he hears quiet taps on his window. He opens the car door and as he stands, notices for the first time that he almost towers over her.

"Here." The single word bears no defeat as she offers him the device.

In turn, he pulls the hotel key card from his pocket and offers it to her. "I knew you'd see it my way."

She rolls her eyes. "Pop the trunk." He does so and then shuts the door. He watches as she ducks into the trunk, and pulls out the go-bags. "Which room?"

"110"

"Oh good ground floor."

"We had a bit of stuff to carry. Wouldn't have done well to exhaust ourselves lugging it up a stairway."

"Just call your girlfriend."

"She's not my-"

"I don't care!" She slings both bags on her left shoulder with the keycard in a death grip in her right hand. As soon as the door beeps to acknowledge the card swipe, she barges in and slams the door shut so roughly that she wouldn't be surprised if one of the '1' s clattered onto the concrete. But as she stuffs the keycard back into her pocket, she exhales softly and dread takes the place of ire as she sets her own go-bag on the bed closest to the bathroom. She back-steps and drags her employer's go-bag to the foot of the bed closest to the door. Arlomhe continues her backward pace until her back meets the door and she grips her own arms as she slides slowly down to the floor. _How_ am _I going to get myself out of this mes-?_

However, her self-pity grinds to a screeching halt at what she hears through the door.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your personal time. I just thought you'd like an update." A pause that lasts about six seconds follows and then "Because I smashed my phone." A half-second "Yes, again." Another two seconds. "Never mind whose phone I'm using." She hears what she thinks is a frustrated exhale. "What do you mean that's the fourth one in two months? I thought we agreed that the second one didn't count because the washing machine ruined that one, not me."

 _Good to know phone destruction runs in the family…_ Arlomhe barely holds back a smirk.

"I'm back at the hotel." Arlomhe doesn't even need to hear the pending _why_. "Because I left something behind." She hears him wrinkle a piece of paper from his pocket. "I'm still looking for it."

 _There's no way she'll buy tha-_

"What is it, you ask?" His tone makes Arlomhe want to face-palm because she knows what's coming. That feeling isn't proved wrong. "I'm looking for my heart have you seen it somewhere?"

 _If she's not your girlfriend, then WHY are you using a schmaltzy, predictable pick-up li-_

Nassr laughs and then "Wise men say only fools rush in … But I can't help falling in love with y-"

She fights the urge to burst out laughing as soon as that filters through the door. She's up and finds a similar spot a little closer to the bathroom, leaning against the wall rather than sliding to the floor. _It's cute but… pretty sure there's no way he's got that walking armory wrapped around his finger._ She snorts as she idly examines her fingernails "I would never have pegged Benu as one to like Elvis Presley…" Her face feels flushed from second-hand embarrassment.

Arlomhe exhales through her teeth, fighting off exhaustion. She paces slowly towards the small end table where a complimentary hotel notepad and pen lay on near a lamp. She hastily scribbles **I'm tired, still need to get him inside and really do need my phone back so hurry up!** Ripping the paper from the pad, she drags her feet over to the door and after checking the keycard is in her pocket, opens and shuts the door quietly. He's right by the window and she's way too tired to try to comprehend what exactly he's saying.

But just as she reaches out to yank on his shirt, his fist immediately jams against his side and that runs enough adrenaline through her to push her back into a more wakened state.

"People change for better or worse. Why are you asking me that question again?" He heaves a sigh and his shoulders drop. "She's unpolished, inefficient and has a spine of jelly. That girl completely lost any and all courage she had. It was quite the sight to see." Fear and rage shoot up her spine in succession. The paper falls from her fingers.

Arlomhe stalks off to the car before she does something she'll regret. Like punching Nassr in the jaw, hard. Something like that would just prove him right. She hears the air rush from her nose and her ire's edge goes with it.

Footsteps sound across the pavement and she starts to tremble. "That was stupid of you to do."

"I didn't show my hand on purpose!" She steps to the right. "I've spent years in an environment with him most prominent among a handful- a small handful- of constants. The vernacular clue just kind of slipped out."

"I heard it was written all over your face too."

"Reason one-hundred why I'm still baffled he didn't pursue anything else regarding your whereabouts nine years ago."

"It always seems to return to that."

"Because you're just waltzing back into my life like it's ok and nothing's wrong."

"I'm not the one who sent you for that exchange."

"Look at him and tell me that I made the wrong decision."

"Pretty sure it was a ballsy request regardless."

"I've dealt with The R.H. for years." She finally faces Nassr. "I know my limits and rarely do I even entertain the idea of testing them."

"What are you going to do? Because this wasn't simply testing them, you've effectively put yourself into quite beyond acceptable!"

"I don't know… but I do know that it isn't exactly your problem to fix."

"You'll need this." He pulls the manila negotiation envelope from his jacket's inner pocket. He presents it to her. "As for how to avoid getting an 'absolutely not' when you reveal you're the one Lady Benu wants to negotiate with- both because it's a bit of a stab to his pride and because I doubt he'd put you in front of that long knife if he had a choice- after all that whole 'father keeping their child from harm thing-, might I suggest groveling and perhaps a little spinning it in his favor?"

'Noted." Arlomhe winces as her shoulder again makes itself known.

"And here's your phone back, all in one piece." She takes the device and stuffs it into her pocket. "Now then," At this, Nassr turns to face the back driver's side door. And without another word, Arlomhe pulls open the door, leaning in to unbuckle the seatbelt, and then moves to assume support on the left side.

"No need Ms. Sharti." Nassr stops beside her

"A fireman's carry might be a little easier on you. But first, let me prevent a fabric tear." She unclasps three of the six hooks that hold the cloak closed. "He wore his really nice one…" Nassr watches as she rolls her eyes. "Okay, go ahead."

Nassr hoists her employer onto his shoulders and Arlomhe feels her jaw drop to the floor. If she wasn't related to him… She shakes that thought away and is at the door with keycard in hand. Sliding it again through the slot, she opens the door and stands by the closest bed. Nassr carefully drops the weight from his shoulder and then helps Arlomhe position The R.H. on his side.

"Good luck." Nassr eyes her employer

"You too." She looks at the envelope clasped tightly in her own hands. Nassr nods silently and then half a minute later is gone and has shut the door behind him.

She climbs into the other bed and sleep quickly claims her.

* * *

 **DH:** Thank you for reading and please review!


	9. Chapter Nine

**DH AN:** Oh look I have an update… Blame for this prolly lies equally with all the **In a Name** I've had my nose in lately, and that Hallucination Marik is kinda fun to play with. Enjoy **Chapter Nine.**

 **AN 2:** Again, spoilerish for **Not As I Know Him**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

Silver sequined midline at the waist. Flowing skirt that barely avoids brushing the floor. Admittedly cozy and far too flattering- something I'd never have chosen for myself. The midnight blue highlights my features. _So let them stare_ paces softly through my head, the last word making me flinch.

And then a slight air change slices past my bare arms as a portion of the atrium's wall slides to reveal and conceal its entrance in five seconds, or is it ten?

This isn't a new dream. I didn't like it the first time and I don't like it now.

"You kept me waiting." At the sound of the first footfall of my hallucinated tormentor I stand ramrod straight, fists clenched and jammed at my sides, shivering all the while because he keeps the damn place like a giant icebox, and perhaps from a smidge of embarrassment- the damn dress fits far too well.

"You really have no sense of self-preservation at all do you, Ms. Khouri?" He laughs and touches my cloak against my right shoulder. I take it with my right hand and my shoulder pain flares. "Always ready to throw yourself at a problem that rarely is yours to solve." His laughs and steps echo throughout the open room as he paces on my right and turns to face me. "I would think an heir of mine would have more sense." He moves to brush away that particular strand of hair that always falls into my face.

I intercept his hand with my own and squeeze his wrist harshly. "I'm. Not. Yours."

He shows that pseudo-charming, dread-inducing expression that's a hair short of a genuine smile. "Technically, you're right." He slips his wrist from my grip and I flinch as he touches the chain that I hadn't even bothered to check this time. At his gentle pull, the chain unclasps and nearly falls through his fingers. I tremble and stare at the floor as I catch a glimpse of his fingers re-clasping the chain before anchoring it on his left pinky and tilting my chin up with his right palm. "But at the same time, how very wrong you are." His words hang in the air as what hangs on the chain as it dangles changes at regular intervals, between the dense but small golden cartouche bearing what he claims is a semi-out of place term of endearment and the thinner but larger in area silver shield pendant that bears my true initials on one side.

His sneer makes me fight down bile. "You've lately questioned what will happen when- not if but when-" He leans in and I flinch as the pendant clatters to the floor. "Everything falls."

As quickly as he was in my personal bubble, he's out of it. "Tell me, Ms. Khouri…" He paces in a half circle to my right. "While your loyalties to others seem admirably steadfast, how well is that reciprocated?" He pushes the cloak over my shoulders and runs his fingers across the rank on the right. "And for what reason?" He takes strands of my hair and rolls them between his forefinger and thumb, something I associate with a cruel reminder that it's all in my head. He leans towards my right ear. "Of course you can't be certain… you're weak, too scared to even ask."

I tremble and my fists clench. And clearly he relishes my discomfort as he grips my arm. "Now, now; you know how well that worked the last time." He twists me around to face him. "I'd love to see you try that again." He touches his right hand to my left cheek. "But, you're indeed aware that," he exhales air lightly through his nose in the barest hint of laughter. "Whatever angers you controls you."

"You deserve my anger." I push the words through my teeth and nearly smack his hand away.

"No one deserves unjust anger… isn't that a tenet of yours, Ms. Khouri?"

"My anger is completely justified."

"You're so very amusing when you gain a spine." He wraps a strand of my hair around his finger twice, almost idly.

"And you're a fool to test it." I grab his wrist and squeeze harshly before throwing it back in his face.

"You're the fool when you allow another to increase the tension."

"I didn't come here for a lecture on controlling my feelings."

"Then why are you here?" It's simultaneously a quick comeback and a deliberate question that leaves me without a reply. His sneer spreads and I squirm. "Why _are_ you here?" He repeats and the emphasis only leads to me shaking more. In that moment, I know that he's onto something that will leave me trembling when I wake. "Dreams are reality in waiting."

"Just what do you mean by that?" The question comes through my teeth as I take four generous steps away from him; two back and two to my left. I realize a second too late that I've given him room to circle as his still-a-touch-off but telltale steps resound on the tile floor.

At the quarter point in the circle, he asks his question. "What are you dreading this time?" He abandons the circular path and steps towards its center, where I stand. "You seem to only return to me when your actual life is in some form of upheaval." He again runs his finger along my shoulder. "The return to your normalcy…Your father's illness… and now this…"

And again, the dream follows a familiar pattern as he pulls something from his suit coat's pocket- this time it's the paper that I still can't believe I convinced him not to shred; it was quite the offer. I only catch a glimpse of the feathered signature before he stows it away. "So you finally crossed paths with Little Benu…"

"Twice." The word leaves soft and clipped, through my teeth.

"And you look no worse for the wear. Bravo…" He is enjoying this far too much and the smirk as he sidesteps in front of me proves it. "And yet it still left you quite shaken in ways that I could have only dreamed of." I feel my face immediately flush in utter embarrassment as he strips my cloak from my shoulders and the cold of the room swoops in on my nearly bare arms. "But then again, you've never exactly been sure of yourself… always second guessing….especially on these." I squirm at the joy in his voice as he suspends my cloak by the epaulets across the shoulders. "On whether or not you've actually earned these or whether your employer merely took pity on you… but there's a new reason that's prominently on the mind at the moment, isn't there?"

Benu's voice bounces through my head. _…Is the placement simply to keep you in line?_ "Can it Ma-!"

I barely get the first syllable of the escape key out before he speaks over me. "I'm not done, Ms. Khouri." His eyes narrow and I almost instinctively cower. His voice goes soft and becomes almost coaxing as he rubs the back of his hand gently along my right cheek. "Rest assured that I too have a key." He smirks. "It's only fair to trade off who ends these little encounters that your feeble mind conjures up."

"Feeble?" I spit the word out through my teeth, tensing as I choke the cloth of my skirt in a tight fist. "I went face to face with the walking armory and came back with my pride in one piece." The smirk that I feel on my lips feels oh so right as I add, "Twice."

My saving face is extremely short-lived. "And yet, you couldn't win a simple duel." I shake as he again pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Of course thinking it would be simple was merely your first folly." He idly keeps running his fingers through my hair and closes the distance between his face and mine. "So, yes. Feeble indeed." I attempt to step back, but his unoccupied right hand is against my back- in effect keeping me there.

My face sours. "If you even think about kissing me, you'll regret it."

"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice, Mheralo. I've kept you long enough." He presses his lips softly against mine and again breaks what he initiated as he rubs his thumb against my cheek. "Until next time." The expression he leaves me with is an out of place genuine smile as I wake.

* * *

 **DH:** As always, thank you **Ataahua** for the use of your aviary! Please Review


	10. Chapter Ten

**DH AN:** Well, it's been a while for any of my solo projects. The **In A Name** coauthor fic bunnies were super good to me lately. And well I got to host said coauthor for a lovely two weeks… but I digress. Please Enjoy **Chapter Ten** of **An Heiress' Mantle.**

 **AN 2:** As always, thank you to **Ataahua** for the use of her Aviary

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

He's stiff, sore, and sour. His venture did not go as planned, that much he knows. And now he's no doubt in custod-

No, this bed is much too soft to be that of a jail cell. And it's far too quiet. Far, far, far too quiet. The only sounds are the ventilation system and perhaps water moving through the pipes. He settles in to the monotony of those sounds as he lets a low, almost inaudible hiss of breath slide past his teeth.

For two minutes that constant remains. Until a faint, almost equally inaudible, whine squeezes through the tranquility. From his right. He sits up a little too quickly as he winces at a squeezing pain in his torso… right where he got kicked in the gut if he recalls correctly. And then the goose egg on the back of his head makes itself known… now that was just a cheap shot- and he knows all about those.

Another low whine that boarders on a whimper seizes his attention. He immediately reaches into the right pocket of his cloak, wrapping his fingers around the Millennium Rod, and as has been habit for the last month- or more precisely the two weeks before his bout with bronchitis- reaches for her mind. Likewise as in those two weeks, the attempt is met with an all too familiar while simultaneously out of place rebuffing that's still not entirely explicable. Perhaps even more inexplicable is that he doesn't press further.

His stilling at the outcome and the small frown that tugs at his lips is nothing new. But his mind coming to a screeching halt- now _that_ is a rare feeling; one he doesn't exactly care for. It only took two seconds- if there were kilometers between them, as it should be- it'd take fifteen- it didn't and that means-

"Snooping girl…" The words come quietly through his teeth. He exhales slowly and feels the ire's edge go with it. His ever-present glare softens as he looks over to the next bed. Arlomhe Sharti's posture is tense- her subtly shaking form, and the fact that she's curled into as much of a ball as possible- as if in dire need of warmth- all of these factors give him the impression that her sleep isn't restful.

A minute later, the cold bites into his exposed upper body, but the fact that Sharti has now relaxed slightly and isn't whimpering anymore makes the self-imposed temperature change far more bearable. And blanketing her with his own cloak has always been among the easier ways to subtly allow his heart some use- after all, keeping it in a figurative desk drawer only serves to keep a reputation that she once gave another of his employ quite the impressive black eye over- a reputation that even after nearly seven years she cannot see is valid- alive and well. Then again, that has never been his reputation with her.

He grants her sanctuary within his office, and he hasn't ever had to drag her in at any point- physically or otherwise. She always arrives willingly. To Arlomhe Sharti alone, he has ceded the advantage his office provides him. The cession of the office advantage is only one thing among many that those among his ranks would incorrectly attribute as a sense of mercy- he knows that some foolishly already have.

He has no mercy. The one on the bed before him however has enough to spare, but she also has enough sense not to be made a fool by it. He's often questioned whose ire would be worse to incur- that of The R.H. or that of Arlomhe Sharti. All his wonderings into that question so far have been inconclusive… anger someone in the right place- all bets are out the window. He has to admit that justified anger is far more terrifying- and that's Arlomhe Sharti's only use for the emotion.

"Foolish girl, you get so cross over the smallest of slights that often aren't even yours to bear." He runs his finger lightly along her right shoulder, pulling a strand of her hair along the path so that it now lies on the pillow rather than in her face. "You care too much," He runs the back of his hand lightly along her right cheek. "Perhaps to make up for how often I choose not to."

Suddenly the air conditioning turns on, and there's now more pressing matters to attend to- a warm shower and a change of clothes top the list. He steps back and turns to drop to the bag at the foot of the bed. He pulls out the first of three sets of clothes, tucks it under his arm, and heading into the ensuite bathroom, again flings the door with a touch too much force and is met with a noise that would likely wake the dead. He rubs his forehead with his index finger and thumb… there's no doubt she needed the sleep this time.

* * *

She wakes to a _slam_ with a white-knuckled grip on the outside of the covers. No- no that can't be right, she's laying on top of those. She stares at the ceiling, counting the small protruding dots in a small section as her grip slowly loosens on whatever covers her. Her right hand slides underneath and she freezes. The cloth is lined. _Also warm._ The thought drowsily drifts through her head and she relaxes for not even half a second before she jolts completely awake as the sound of a running shower slices through the silence. And any doubt over what's covering her fades with it.

It's The R.H's cloak.

He's awake.

He wasn't successful.

This time, she's the only one present to take the brunt of the fury that accompanies these failures.

She sits up in the bed and frantically glances to her right. The negotiation package is still there, undisturbed. Arlomhe releases the breath she's been holding as her senses caught up with her. At least one thing went right. She sees the initials A.S. in large print on the side of the envelope where the flap closes. On the flap, she swears she can see something in far smaller print. Her hand trembles as she reaches to turn on the lamp that rests on the shared nightstand.

There is indeed something written on the envelope's flap.

 **I forgot to mention that across the street, there's a café with a cozy booth perfect for perusing this packet- or putting some distance between you and the pending, inevitable, unpleasant conversation with your employer.- N.R.**

"Is he trying to get me to slip up and panic? Because I'm doing that just fine on my own right now. Also his penmanship is sorely lacking." The words come out barely audible as she shuts off the lamp. "Of course he was probably in a hurry to get back to the not-girlfriend-but-so-obviously-girlfriend; not that I blame him, she's likely better company than who I'm stuck with."

She stands, setting the envelope aside, and turns her attention to the dark colored heap on her bed. It's just bad form to not show some form of appreciation for the gesture. She lays the cloak out over the bed, pulls the sleeves in, fastens the hooks with relative ease, folds it in half with the hooks forming the fold line, and keeping the fold on the right, folds it over in the length's middle once and then folds over the still longer length side at the new middle and is now left with a manageable, neat, more square bundle. She quickly checks over the habitual handiwork before setting it on the other bed near the foot.

Within a minute and a half, Arlomhe is in her shoes and almost out the door. The shower is still running. She stops. 'Ill-advised' doesn't even begin to cover what going out without leaving a note would be. She scribbles one and leaves it on top of his cloak. Negotiation packet in hand, she checks her back pants pocket for the keycard and the right side pocket for the cell phone. Upon finding both, she steps out of the hotel room, and crosses the parking lot and street with no hassle.

"Huh, _Café de Flore._ " Arlomhe views the bright orange sign. "I thought that was just a small European chain - must've decided to branch out." She steps inside, thankful for the subconscious jolt of alertness that merely smelling coffee causes. "Good ness I need some caffeine."

She gives the menu board a once over and pulls a five pound note from her left pocket. It'll cover a cup of tea. She orders an Earl Grey, doesn't take the change, grabs two packets of sweetener and claims the booth near the door, and the seat that has a view of the door. Two minutes later, the barista puts the mug on the table. It's spewing steam. She glances over to the wall opposite the door, lined with stools at a waist high counter and a mirror pane all along the wall, the glass border running parallel to the counter and to the ceiling. Even from a distance she can tell she looks like hell. She adjusts herself so that it's easier to look out the window, jostling her issued cell phone in the process.

 _When it rains…_ Arlomhe heaves a loose sigh as she turns on the device… The phone blowup is the least of her problems. The device emits a three second long noise as all the notifications bombard in at once. Twenty missed calls almost evenly split between the only contacted three, five voicemails- all from Odion with varying degrees of the closest to frantic she'd ever heard out of him. Ten missed texts- six of which are merely acknowledgements of the ones she sent that morning- and three timestamped around two hours prior inquiring on whereabouts and an estimated ETA. And one that read _Relax, enjoy the time away_ that was from Harkin. She rolls her eyes at that one and barely stops herself from typing _I wish!_ in response. She sets the phone aside. At least the large white flower vase of sunflowers is pleasant to look at.

She pulls the papers from the envelope and spreads them all over the table. There are five pages in total- three pages worth of documents, one page with a very well-drawn map, and one page in Benu's script that's not for her, provided the "Dear Mister R.H." she happened to glance at was any indication.

The first page is straightforward, Date: set up for two days from now. Time: About the time it is right now. Reading the location, she bites back a curse. _Please tell me I am not sitting in the middle of a Cobras front._ She slides the papers into the envelope, frowning as the steam still spews out from her tea; it's too hot to drink yet.

"Something that valuable is _quite_ the bargaining chip…" The words run on repeat through her head joined by the smallest flash of that card. The card that he doesn't have. One that he clearly wants.

And she's the unfortunate messenger who gets the pleasure to certify what he likely already knows… he likes confirmation.

The steam from her cup has now slowed to a trickling wisp that has breaks in it. She moves to take the cup into her hands, halting just as her fingers reach the handle.

 _It wasn't yellow- no that card was unmistakably golden- like his jewelry, like the desert sun… no way that was a misprint-_ She finally takes the cup into her hands. _Production is regulated and there are people solely trained on how to spot suspect cards…so it must be the only one… but what card would be so valuable that he wouldn't consider-_

"And now Ms. Khouri…prepare yourself for my unbreakable strategy's centerpiece!" The moment flashes through her head and she trembles, narrowly avoiding sloshing her cup's contents.

 _God card._ The phrase bounces through her head in the same manner as "Rank Stripping" would leave her lips- severity acknowledged in the words barely given voice. _Doesn't he know how dangerous thos-_ She shakes as she sets the cup down. Of course he does. Therein lies their power. _I can't negotiate… let alone for that- it's something significant only to him._ She chokes the inside of her pockets. _But I have no choice if Benu will only negotiate with me._ She wouldn't be at all surprised if Benu's little note was something to that effect.

Arlomhe always dreaded her employer's habit of shooting the messenger. She finally takes a small sip of tea and then finds herself gulping the contents of her mug as if it's going to run off. She sees the same barista place another mug and two packets of sweetener in front of her.

"I didn't order that."

"You did pay for two, Miss." A glance at the menu board proves the barista right. "You look like you could use it anyway."

Understatement of the year. She nods and murmurs a "thank you." And the barista leaves her quickly enough for her to watch her employer place his order, pay, and pace towards her occupied booth.

He stops and sets his hand on the edge of the table. "May I join you, Ms. Sharti?"

Arlomhe nods limply in approval. He slides into the booth with a slight wince and stares at the dead center of the table. His coffee arrives soon after and she watches his gaze shift slowly to that.

She's waiting for The R.H.'s pending explosion.

There's a twinge of sympathy and possibly empathy that Benu's trying desperately to ignore. Something she only accomplishes after reminding herself that she's safely behind the one way mirror rather than in the direct line of fire… three times.

But she's been there enough to absolutely know the course this conversation will take. It's certainly not going to be a pleasant one. She briefly regrets making light of it earlier, all it did was stir up Little Lookout's nerves- Benu admits that Arlomhe Sharti may be the best at pushing any nerves down that she's seen since Nassr.

She can't tell whether Mr. Really Hot's staring his mug down notches up the tension or assuages it. Ms. Sharti's expressionless face isn't cluing her in either. Benu nearly misses Arlomhe's shoulders rise and her expression change. Apparently she can't take the silence anymore. A small hesitance on Sharti's end gives Benu just enough time to flick on the hidden microphone in the vase. "My my, Little Lookout has good taste… how'd she know that sunflowers are my favorite?" Benu threads her hands behind her head. "And thus, have the best quality spy mic?"

Benu watches as Arlomhe slides in on the table and speaks a little lower than normal conversation level. "I followed you last night because I… I didn't trust your judgement." The mic picks up a sharp inhale. "I'm sorry. It was stupid, and won't happen again. I'm-"

"You're the only reason I'm not in a jail cell." Sharti's employer wisely mimics the low conversation tone.

Benu's brows arch in mild surprise. _Well… that's certainly not what I was expecting._ Clearly the girl in the booth wasn't expecting that either, if the recoil of surprise is any indication.

He continues with a softness in his voice that's clearly solely reserved for the one across from him. "You had your reasons. And I've known for years better than to question them unless absolutely necessary."

"Are you…are you feeling…?" Benu can't blame the other girl for her inability to choose the right word. He was quite out hours ago and apparently was getting over something before then- it was the only explanation for why he wasn't as entertaining.

He again winces. "I'm fine, Dear One." The address comes again softly with Benu watching as he draws circles on the table with his finger, the light above the booth catching a ring every so often and echoing the color of the card that still rests safely in her jacket's inner pocket. Which brings her to what she's waiting for. And Arlomhe doesn't disappoint.

"Sir… whatever it was you were after…you didn't get it."

The finger circling stops and she watches him tense, but that's all. Benu lets loose a somewhat dejected sigh through her teeth. _Such a disappointment Dear Mister R.H. Surely failure chafes you more than that._

"I'm well-aware of that fact, Ms. Sharti." His voice now has its characteristic edge. A small smile flits across Benu's face. _That's better, but I know you're not that composed._

"Lady Benu will only negotiate with me."

Benu leans back in her chair, propping her boots up on the counter. _And you're not going to tell him why? Bad form Ms. Sharti…actually, that's probably a very self-preserving move on your part._

Immediately The R.H. is on his feet and in Sharti's face. Aside from a very minor flinch, the girl hasn't budged. "What did you just say?" Benu jolts forward in the chair. _There we go. Perfect form from you, Mister Really Hot. As expected._

The mic picks up a shaky inhale and the girl is so pale her skin color almost matches the light beige table. However, her words lack any of that trepidation. "Lady Benu will only negotiate with me." Calm, determined, steady.

 _Words are the one place that you absolutely cannot afford to show fear in. Good for you, Ms. Sharti._

Benu shuts the mic off only after The R.H. slides back into his seat and his grip is around the handle of the coffee mug; only after the possible immediate danger is passed.

Two minutes later sees Benu with a steaming black coffee of her own and no one in the barista area knew she was there and back.

Just in time too; Arlomhe Sharti has just now handed over her little note that's probably a little more littered with jabs at him than is wise, but it's sure to solidify Sharti's credibility. Does it flatter her? Certainly not more than necessary, but to say there's not a little ego stroking for him as "Appreciation of the skill to form a quick and positive rapport" and for "her prompt cooperation" is expressed- well that would be a lie- she assumes Sharti learned at least something from her employer. Apparently it's Benu -2 R.H.-0, as he hasn't absolutely torn the letter to shreds and sets it down on the table, promptly pressing his elbows to it as he thinks.

He takes the note, rises from his seat, and says something very to the point- her lip reading skills aren't great when her subject is in profile- before he makes his exit. Eyes still on the now absolutely shaking girl at the table, Benu musses up her hair just a smidge, pops out her contacts and snags a bright orange barista's vest from a hook in the break room that connects through a semi-hidden doorway.

Arlomhe Sharti looks in desperate need of a refill, and in equal need of someone in her corner. A small voice in her own head reminds Benu that she's not the person for the job.

* * *

 **DH:** That poor girl cannot catch a break from me. Also, yes there is a big giant nod to **Ataahua's** fic **Ashes of an Emerald Phoenix Renewed.** If you haven't, go read it already! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and please review. They make great early birthday presents. :)


End file.
